One more cannon, One more down, One step closer, to the crown
by ValerieArgent16
Summary: A young girl from District 4 is reaped to enter the Hunger Games and with a brother who is already a victor she must learn to trust the sibling that went sour after his games. It's hard to stay focused with Finnick as your mentor but someone else gets her attention, the brute of a volunteer from 2–Cato Ludwig. The two tributes fall in love knowing only one can exit the Games alive.
1. Chapter 1: The Reaping

Chapter One.

**PART I: THE TRIBUTES.**

**The Reaping.**

The early morning sea was calm and peaceful. Spraying from the cold morning sea is carried by the gentle breeze pastes my face and dampens my short hair. District 4 is Panem's fishing districts and its soul purpose of existence is to fish and harvest our large range of fish for the people of the Capitol. Thankfully, I have an undying love for the water and my biggest strength is swimming which is probably why I am aloud to work on the weekends on the fishing crew.

In the palm of my hand, the handle of my short bladed knife is gripped firmly by my fingers but I wasn't planning on capturing or gutting any helpless creatures, certainly not today of all days, but a strange sense of comfort fills me knowing I have a weapon of choice if the worst should happen.

Reaping day is the one day of the year that is dreaded by all twelve to eighteen-year-olds along with the families of these children as over the period of several hours, twenty-four families will say goodbye to their child or siblings, as over the space of several weeks, twenty-three will bury their children after they watch them die. Siblings will lose their play-mates and girlfriends/boyfriends will lose their other half's. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once into the pool of names. At thirteen, twice and so on and so on until you reach eighteen, the last year of eligibility when your name goes into the pool a total of seven times. That is true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire county of Panem.

However, the poorer districts such as 11 and 12 many young children who are starving or struggling can opt to add their name more times into the pool in exchange for tesserae,which involves a year supply of grain and oil for on person. Due to Michael's Victor statues, we do not need to opt for anything, we have more money than we need, so this year, at the age of sixteen, my name is entered six times.

Each of the twelve districts are required to reap one male and one female called tribute who will be taken to the Capitol, trained and interviewed before being placed into a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. In this arena is where these twenty-four tributes will be forced to fight to the death until only one if left alive. The Victor.

I wasn't far from the wooden docks of the harbour when a distant voice calls my name causing me to drag away my attention away from the outstretch of sea laced with mist, I turned my head towards the building of my district to see at the edge of the dock walkway was the Harbour Manager, Louis, waving frantically beckoning me to the shore.

A burst of air released from my lungs turning into condensation once passed my lips giving me the childish feel that I was a dragon before I slipped my knife back onto my leather pouch then concealing it in the pocket of my black trench coat. I pulled the cord at the front of the small engine revving it to life with a splatter before they evened out to push the wooden holder to the wooden docks.

"How come your up so early; don't you know what day it is?" Louis asks offering me a helping hand out of the boat.

Reaping day is the only day throughout Panem that everyone lays in and no one shows up for work. Time along with all life seems to stand still within the districts as very family tries to value what could be the last hours with their children.

I shrug lightly, "Couldn't sleep." I admit to him, it isn't unnatural for children to have poor night sleeps including nightmares before reaping, "What are you doing up?" I ask as we walk up the dock together. Louis has no children but a wife named Lucy, I suspect the reason they have no children due to fear of them getting reaped. He shrugs like I did before fixing his dirty blonde hair which is hidden beneath a dark blue, tattered woollen hair. He more leather boots to his knees with jeans and a long overcoat made from thin material as it is slightly humid despite the early hours.

He slaps my shoulder in a friendly manor, "Me neither, kiddo." he says as he leads me inside the wooden cabin at the edge of the harbour. This small space acted as a hangout for fishermen, alcohol is hidden beneath a section of the floorboards, this spare space is used as a staff room, at the beginning of the day the workers come in and dump their belongings before trailing off to the ships, then at the end of a hard day, drinks are on the house. I take a seat at one of the circular lunch tables watching Louis as he flicks the kettle on before preparing two cups then taking the seat opposite me.

My father died when I was six, an accident whilst fishing during a storm took him away from us, but luckily by then I was well known amongst the group and despite not being any help to them, I was still allow to go out on jobs if the weather was nice and calm. In fact, the men on-board the fishing crew nicknamed me Starfish, never really made sense to me either but people say that the reason for my pageboy haircut was due to the dominate male surroundings growing the age of fourteen, my mother remarried leaving me at the mercy of my elder brother Michael who is a Hunger Games victor from three years previous, so from the age of thirteen I have been living inside Victor's Village.

"Nervous?" Louis asks me as he slides a mug of steaming hot tea across the tented tabletop to me.

I scoff lightly squeezing the cup tightly, "Is the Earth round?" I ask him. Louis laughs nervously with me. Only Districts 1 and 2 tributes aren't nervous about the reaping's, most are volunteers and are trained before hand which technically is illegal but it does happen here in Four as well. Finnick Odair is a perfect example of a pre-trained tribute as he won his games at fourteen. Youngest Victor ever. Growing up in the third wealthiest district does have its perks, no poverty, good schooling and money making jobs which naturally makes important muscles which as our arms, back and legs healthier. Plus our tributes are usually Capitol favourites which gets us good sponsors which helps them last longer in the Games.

Lost in thought I looked up to see Louis looking at me through his emerald green eyes, I raised my half full cup of tea in a toasting gesture. "Happy Hunger Games!" I say in a gruff, low voice in an attempt to sound like Panem's President Snow.

"And may the odds be _ever _in your favour!" Louis says in an hilarious high-pitched, fake Capitol accent in a very well done impersonation to sound like District 4's escort Dieter Rollo. We fall into a pit of hysteric laughter before finishing our drinks in an abrupt silence before I give Louis a thankful smile before pushing out my chair from beneath me and standing up. Despite the reaping not being until two I am in need of a very good shower and to find something other than jeans and short sleeved shirts to wear as you are required to be formally dressed to the reaping.

"I will see you at the reaping." I say before stepping over to the door and taking the handle in my hand then turning back to look at Louis.

"Make sure you wear something pretty. And don't forget to come see your fishing family after." he says with a positive smile, I grin back.

Victor's Village is on the outskirts of District 4, on the opposite side of the harbour. The city center is silent as I plod through with my hands tucked inside my coat pockets. District 4 has a strange pride of remembering fallen and winning tributes. Two stone pyramids are placed at the back of the city center, one with plaques naming lost tributes and the year of their games. The other stone pyramid names the tributes who have become victors, including the year of their game date. So far there was only two female names on the victor pyramids: Mags Cohen – _13__th__ Hunger Games _and Annie Cresta – _70__th__ Hunger Games. _The pyramid also houses the names of two male Victors including my brother: Michael Hollern – _81__st__ Hunger Games _and Finnick Odair –_ 65__th__ Hunger Games._

Our house in Victor's Village is the second house on the right, coincidently it is number four. Across from us Mags lives with her husband in number three and Finnick and Annie live in number two to our left. Sometimes I hear Annie scream at night, she begs for her life and asks for her district partner back in her sleep. That is what The Games do to you. They take everything you are and turn your sanity upside-down, all to prevent another uprising, to make us all remember we are completely at the mercy of the Capitol and if we step out of line, firebombs will wipe us and everyone we love away and plough us under the ground like they did District 13.

Michael is asleep still when I sneak in locking the door behind myself. I remove my boots before doing the same to my coat, I took the knife from the pocket of the coat before placing them by the front door. The stairs creak beneath my feet as I tiptoe up them and pass my brothers bedroom like a cat, trying my best not to disturb him. Michael's heavy snores fill the landing's atmosphere masking my movements. The snores are silenced by the closing of my thick wooden door. The room behind the door was large considering how little it contained. Opposite the door way pressed up the wall below the bay windows was my double bed, its bedsheets are neatly tucked in their correct positions, to the beds left next to my small en-suite bathroom was a desk that served no purpose expect holding my school bag and above it was a shelve which was decorated in family photos and my favourite books, to the right of my bed along the wall was a wardrobe, full length mirror and dressing table.

I throw my pocket knife onto my bed before pealing off my damp clothing and throwing them into the hamper inside the bathroom to stand naked waiting for the water being released from the shower head to turn warm. Once it had, I stood motionless under the water as the heat soothes and loosens my muscles. I run the flat palm my hands from the front of my hairline to the base of my skull flattening and draining all the excess water from my hair strands. I step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around my body before adventuring back into my bedroom to pick out a dress for the reaping.

My damp hands wonder over the soft fabric which makes up the three dresses that hung neatly in my wardrobe. I remove the simplest dress from the unit which happens to be a dark blue garment and held it in front of my body to study my image in the dirty mirror beside it. The dress comes just below my knees with short sleeves that are laced with white lace for decoration around the neckline. I breath in deeply before releasing it gently as I place the dress onto my bed. As I comb through my hair, a knock erupts from the other side of my bedroom door interrupting my train of thought.

"Are you awake?" the gruff morning voice of Michael asks through the wooden doors.

I nod to myself before realising he cannot see me, "Yes." I call back quickly.

"Food is on the table downstairs, I'd hurry up before it gets cold." he informs me before his footsteps trail away from my door.

A growl echoes from my stomach making me aware of the underlying hunger I was feeling. The dress fitted like a glove luckily so I do not need to worry about alternatives, I fix the ribbon around the middle like a cheap belt and tie it up at the base of my back. With a fake crystal clip, I section off the right side of my hair pinning it backwards to reveal my pierced right ear and left my fringe to curl softly down the other side of my face. Flopping onto my belly and sliding like a penguin underneath my bed to dig out my flat black shoes before travelling downstairs where the smell of food is strong and inviting.

Across the table are various plates, some hold rashes of bacon and others hold pancakes. In the middle of the table is a metal bread holder keeping the toast standing up and a basket at the end cradles fresh fruit. Michael sits at the table motionless staring into the black mist of the cup of coffee he grips tightly in his hands, steam rises from the liquid inside gently skimming his face and the protective layer over his eyes without any reaction from him. Michael still has nightmares about The Games, like Annie I have heard him screamed for his life, endless nights I have cradled him like he is the child, being extra careful of the blade he keeps hidden beneath his pillow.

My footsteps echo through the silent kitchen startling Michael from his memorized state. His pale jade eyes shoot up to me as I enter further into the room, he smiles gently but the smile doesn't reach his eyes as he lifts the cup of hot liquid to his lips, "You look pretty." he muffles the comment flatteringly into the cup.

Heat rushes to my face as I smile weakly, "Thank you." I say walking over to the table and taking the seat opposite my brother and took to the task of loading my plate up with bacon rashes, pancakes, several freshly baked rolls and a apple, but awkwardly my eyes were far bigger than my stomach when I filled my plate as I only ended up pulling apart the roll into small chunks and eating it slowly. Michael's eyes burn holes into my forehead as I eat trying to avoid his gaze until I cannot pretend that I am not noticing his glare.

My eyes dart upwards to meet his before he has the chance to turn away. "What are you staring at?" I ask.

Michael's eyes flicker from mine covering every section of my upper body before meeting my eyes again, "Is that Maria's dress?" he asks in a whisper. A solid lump forms in my throat as I turn away to look down at my plate of food before I nod. From the upper section of my eyes I watch all of the colour from Michael's face drain and his features drop every single emotion until he is expressionless. He take a deep breath before turning away from me compeletly to get up and leave the kitchen.

I must have been sat there for hours as I force myself to swallow the now tasteless food, maybe I should go change? No. My stomach doesn't allow me to eat anymore after I had finished my bread roll and rashes of bacon so instead I clean away mine and Michael's plate before putting away the unused food.

At half twelve, the sound of the doorbell brings Michael out of hiding, he carries a bag which I have no idea what it contains, Michael along with the other District 4 Victor's are gathered up by Peacekeepers to be escorted to the Justice Building which is in front of the square to have a meeting with the Mayor. Before he leaves, Michael makes the effort to hug me as if I am a diseased and ill person. I guess it is so he doesn't get attached but after the reaping, I am to live alone here until The Hunger Games finish and a Victor is blessed upon us.

"I love you." I mumble.

He smiles faintly before kissing the top of my head, "I will see you in several weeks." he says before trailing down the steps. I stand in the doorway as he along with Finnick and Annie wait for the Peacekeepers to collect Mags from her home. Annie catches sight of me and smiles with incredible happiness at me from the street between the houses. Finnick, who has his hand tightly in hers, turns to smile at me as well, which eyes that say 'good luck'. I give them a friendly nod before turning and walking back to enter the house.

At one o'clock, I leave the house and head to the square for sign in. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door, other than that being the sibling of a Victor does not grant you any sort of immunity. Only death grants you immunity from The Games. Even then officials will come around to check if that is the case, but really, what is the difference?

I line up in the female queue instructed for my age group of sixteen. My head wanders to the bright banners decorated with the Panem symbol are hung from the shop windows and camera crews perched like buzzard on rooftops, only to add extra effect as the reaping are brilliant opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well.

Four girls from the front desk, a voice behind me snatches my attention from the male Peacekeeper in charge of sign in. I turned my head to see that the second girl behind me was Leila Turner who I would consider my best friend but really in a society where every year could be the time she or I am reaped to die, what is truly the point in keeping attachments. Leila wears a beautiful coral pink knee-length dress, her bright strawberry hair is pinned back from her face to reveal her unusually pretty features. She smiles a surprisingly happy smile at me before asking the girl in front of her – and behind me – if she could go in front. The girl give an uneasy nod missed with a shrug and allows Leila to cut in front of me.

Thankfully Leila doesn't say anything, I am too close to the front for talk and we will only be silenced by the guards if we speak. The Peacekeeper beckons me forward before asking of my name and then my index finger so he can take blood then he lets me go. Quick and simple.

All the twelve to eighteen year olds are bottle necked into roped areas marked off by age, the oldest in the front and the youngest at the back so I, at sixteen are partly in the middle. Family members are lined up around the perimeter holding tightly onto one another's hands. I am sure my mother in there somewhere holding onto her new partners hand as their children are herded like cattle into the areas. I know for a fact it is their first child's reaping today. One of those cards has Willow String written on them but sourly I don't care, I wouldn't volunteer to save her neck.

"How many times is your name in the pool?" Leila asks in a whisper.

I focus my attention on the Justice Building as a temporary stage is set in front of it and two large monitor placed beside it with two camera placed in front of the stage to project the personnel on-stage across the screens so the people at the back can see. The stage holds six wooden chairs, a small podium and two glass bowls; one for the boys and one for the girls. Despite the overcrowded number of paper slips inside, six of them have Anastasia Hollern written on them in careful Capitol handwriting.

"Six." I tell Leila who stare has not broken from me for the passed thirty seconds. "You?"

Leila shrugs, completely unfazed, "Same." her gaze removes from mine but a short while later she snags on my arm making me hiss, "I'll tell you what though, I wouldn't mind being reaped if that was mentoring me." she then reaches down to pinch my face in her hand and angle my face to stare in the path of Finnick Odair sitting amongst the other Victors, Dieter Rollo – District 4's escort and Mayor Osbourne.

A flicker of anger pelts through my at her comment but I suck it up and keep it hidden as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps forward to the podium, his image now spread across the overly large screens as he begins to read the same stupid cards he does every year. He tells the history of Panem. The country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the diseases, droughts, the storms, the fires and the brutal wars. Finally, the result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts which brought peace to the citizens. What a bullshit story, but as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

The rules surrounding the Hunger Games are simple: fight or die. The idea of the games are to show how little we would stand of surviving another rebellion.

"It is both a time for remembrance and a time for thanks." the mayor says in a accented tone, as the then reads out the list of passed District 4's victors. So Michael, Mags, Finnick and Annie all give a nod to the audience, Annie clamps onto Finnick's arm as the audience claps with pride. Mayor Osbourne then introduces Dieter Rollo who takes the podium with pride.

Dieter Rollo is an very strange creature, bright and bubble with bright blood red hair which is cut short but spiked up with whatever length he has. Dieter's face is powdered ghostly white with gold eye-liner and thick red eye shadow coating his lids. His clothes are made from fine materials, his long blazer is made from what looks like red velvet with his gold shirt made from silk and his trousers leather. He smiles revealing a set of unnaturally white teeth.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" he says into the microphone. Dieter then goes on a bit about how he is honoured to be here but I have zoned out. _Six out of two thousands girls. _I grip Leila's hand beside meand she doesn't shake me off, instead, she grips my hand back giving me a reassuring squeeze.

It's time for the drawing. Dieter swoops down from the podium to the glass bowl with the male's names, he reaches in, digs his hand deep into the papers before selecting one at random. The crowd draws in a collective breath. The entire square silences completely giving you the ability to hear a pin drop. Dieter Rollo crosses back over to the podium, smooths down the slip of paper and reads the name out clearly.

"Garrett Larkin!" he calls out loudly into the microphone.

A cry of pure pain screeches from around the outside, the entire area of boy's head turn to stare at the individual before they part allowing the boy to exit the quarantined section. Garrett suddenly becomes familiar, he is tall and stocky with golden skin and sun bleached hair that falls in waves across his forehead. Garrett is escorted by Peacekeeper's to the side stage so he could climb the stairs onto the stage to be greeted by Dieter Rollo. Garrett remains emotionless as Dieter asks for volunteers but no one steps forward so Dieter continues on with the reaping.

"And now for the ladies!" Dieter says cheerily swooping over to the glass bowl filled with the female's names. Like he did with the male's bowl. Dieter reaches in and digs his hand deep into the paper slips before again selecting one at random. I feel nauseous as I so desperately hoping that it isn't me, that it isn't mine, it isn't mine... my hand tights around Leila's to the point of pain. Dieter Rollo crosses over to the podium, smooths down the slip of paper and reads the female's name out. And it's me.

"Anastasia Hollern!" Dieter Rollo calls with such gusto it is almost insulting,

My first reaction is pure disbelief. _Six out of two thousands girls. _I must have heard it wrong. But when Leila grips my arms squeezing my hand tighter, I knew I hadn't. It was my name. The female tribute is me. Annie Cresta lets out a cry.

"_I volunteer!" _a distant and strained voice yells from the crowd.

I turn around to glance at the blank faces of the girls stood around me. Known of them had yelled. I don't need to push through the crowd as they have already parted like the Red Sea allowing me a straight path to the stage. The Peacekeeper's meet me at the edge of the crowd and they escort me the four steps need to reach the right side stage steps.

"_No! Anastasia! I volunteer!" _the voice calls again but from the stage I cannot see the owner, therefore I agree the voice is coming from my own mind. My brother is half stood with Finnick gripping his arm tightly as I take my place beside Dieter. The mayor swoops in hushing my brother silent as he then begins to read the long and boring Treaty of Treason as he does every year at this point after the tributes are chosen – it is required – but I am not listening to a single word.

_Why Garrett Larkin? _I think, not that it matters in the slightest who he is. Garrett Larkin and I are not friends. We are certainly not neighbours and we have never, ever spoken. Truthfully, I am wondering how the hell am I going to kill him? Triple the size and double the strength, he is a sure Victor between me and him no question asked, maybe he will trip and break his ankle, slowly leading to his death. What vile thoughts but what else am I to think.

He does not know me and I do not know him.

Mayor Osbourne finishes the Treaty of Treason and then motions for Garrett and myself to shake hands. We do so making sure to give each other painful squeezes to watch the others face faultier. During the process I make sure to stare deeply into his eyes, they flicker uncomfortable before releasing my hand – with the satisfactory feeling I have some how manage to over come him, we turn to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

_Oh well, _I think calmly, _there will be twenty-two others. Odds are someone else will kill him for me._

During the final section of the anthem, Dieter Rollo lays a gentle hand on mine and Garrett's back bring us in closer to the podium, he then steps forward to the microphone once more. "Ladies and gentlemen. Your tributes from District 4: Garrett Larkin and Anastasia Hollern." he says.

However, the odds have not been in my favour so far. So the odds of Garrett Larkin and I coming face-to-face, are incredibly high. What then?


	2. Chapter 2: Saying Goodbye

Chapter Two.

**Saying Goodbyes.**

The moment the anthem ends, Garrett and I are herded by Peacekeepers off the center stage and through the front doors of the Justice Building and into custody. I assume the escorting by Peacekeepers is because in the past tributes have attempted to escape but I have never heard nor seen of such an act.

I am conducted to a room and left alone to stare at the walls. The room was beautifully decorated with golden carvings and deep red carpets with velvet sofa and chairs. I throw myself down onto the couch lifting my feet up onto the surface to allow better comfort as I stare at the painted ceiling. Deep breaths and the rubbing of the soft fabric beneath my fingertips helps to calm me as I prepare myself for the next hour which is the time allotted for tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones but considering my mother is probably hugging her twelve-year-old daughter thanking the lord it wasn't her name and knowing I will be spending the next week with my brother, I have all that time to say goodbye so I expect to spend the next hour alone telling myself not to get upset, crying is not an option, there will be more camera's at the train station and I cannot afford to be captured by the camera's as a soft sixteen-year-old who is not prepared to kill for her life, the other tributes would have a field day thinking they could pick me off easily. I would be their main target in the Arena.

In the mist of my darkest moment when the reality truly hit me, I would die without any noticing and I believed no one was coming to visit me, the tears began to line my eyes but then the door of the room opens abruptly and in comes Louis. He is not accompanied by his wife. I do not hesitate to go into his arms as they open for me. After a minute, Louis pushes me away from him with his hands still gripping my upper arms keeping me relatively close.

"Listen to me. Ana? Are you listening to me?" he demands strongly shaking my upper body with anger. I flick my eyes from the his buttoned up shirt at his chest to his glimmering green eyes and nod silently to show I am listening, "Get your hands on a knife." he orders, "If it's one you can throw to hit targets, even better. Or a spear, anything you can throw or create distance with."

My stomach turns as he calls the innocent people I will have to kill as targets. As if they have no feelings but I nod frantically as my heart staggers at the strange memories, throwing knives is something of a hobby but I am certainly not a perfectionist, I feel nervous thinking of those District 1 and 2 volunteers, many who have been trained specifically in throwing knives where as my throwing knives ability is the result of winning money I do not need as a sort of betting game amongst us fishermen. The men on the fishing crew I am part of have normally had a bit to drink after the day has finished. Our game is basically darts but without the usual throwing dart, instead we use our blades. It is good fun, a bit of friendly competition and excellent practise especially, of course, with the Hunger Games leering over your life from the moment you turn twelve to the day you become an adult.

"What is they haven't put out any throwing knives?" I ask stupidly as my voice rattles inside my throat.

Louis shakes me back to attention and from what feels like a childish fear, "There are always throwing knives because they are an easy weapon to use but you need to get them before another tribute." he stares at me with hopeful eyes.

"What happens if one of them do get them first?" I ask frantically as I slowly begin to think the only way I can survive is on the distance of throwing knives. Killing from a distance like a coward, without them seeing.

Louis sighs, "Get anything with a sharp edge. Despite being short you are very strong." he tells me. "Anastasia! Promise me you will stay alive! Don't give up now!"

I nod slowly, "I promise, I will get the knives."

Louis shakes his head, "No, promise you will stay alive."

"I promise." I say but my promise is completely hollow. I cannot promise to stay alive, if that was the case I would promise to win but if the other tributes are like Garrett, I stand no hope in hell of winning these games. The odds were against my in the reaping. Six in two thousand. The odds of my winning are completely against me as well. One in twenty-four.

The odds against me are ridiculous.

Then a Peacekeeper is at the door signalling our time is up. Louis pulls me in for a hug, squeezing me tightly causing me to struggle for breath. He mumbles in my ear a sincerer 'good luck' before the Peacekeeper orders him out and the door closes and I am alone again. Throwing myself down, face fist into the plush sofa burying my face into a red pillow to block out everything. The entire thing seemed unreal.

As I zoned out almost completely, someone else enters the room closing the door quietly behind them-self and when I turn over to look up, I am overwhelmed by emotion as Leila stands red-rimmed eyed from crying in front of the doorway. As I sit up, she rushes over to me and throws her arms around my shoulders and buries her face into the crook of my neck and like Louis, she squeezes me to the point of light pain like I had her hand during the reaping. When she releases me, her soft hands pat over my body, face and arms as if I am already wounded, searching for cuts.

"You can win." she tells me before adding, "Maybe."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "Don't be stupid." I reply.

Leila sighs with disappointment, "I am not being stupid, I am being positive." she speaks firmly trying to hid her trembling bottom lip. "Maybe you should try it." she then snaps. "Your mentor is Finnick Odair, bronze-skinnned God and no doubt prepared to grant a girl her last wish." Leila says with a wink. "And if you win, you'll be as rich as your own brother."

Like an unpredictable bomb, I explode in my only friends face. "I don't care about the money! I do not give two shits about Finnick Odair being my mentor. I am going to die in that arena, or are you completely oblivious to that face? I am going to die surrounded by no one that I love. Do you even care of do you enjoy making me feel like a hopeless pawn in the Capitol's sick game?" I yell, not out of all anger, some is from fear.

Leila looks at me in bewilderment, "We are all pawns in the Capitol's games. I am sorry but the world doesn't stop because you were reaped, the games will still continue and I could get reaped next year, or maybe the year after that. Six in two thousand and you were picked over every girl, next year there is one bigger chance I could get picked, and if I don't, the games will continue, every year I will be forced to watch my children, and my children's children being reaped and slaughtered for entrainment. I am not saying all this to make you feel down or depressed, I am trying to make you see that leading up to the games there are still positive things to look at. Time with your brother, no other tribute has had the chance to be mentored by their sibling. You have an advantage, extra help."

She is right and as tears bubble in her eyes, I throw my arms around her slightly violently and pull her in tightly to my chest, her staggered breaths tickle my throat. The strong smell of mint shampoo travels up my nose making me relax slightly. And I just hold her, aside from Michael, Leila Turner is the only other person I am certain that I love wholeheartedly, I pull away from her slightly just to look at her for a moment, even with a puffy face and red-rimmed eyes, she is very beautiful. Leila's hands flew together as she grunts pulling on the bottom section of her index finger.

"Wear this in the Arena." it wasn't a question, Leila slips something cold and made of metal into my hands but I don't look at it and soon enough, a Peacekeeper has entered and told Leila her time is up and she needs to leave. Surprisingly, Leila cups my face gently and arches my head down so she can kiss me in the space between my eyebrows.

"You can do it." she whispers soothingly. "I will never, ever forget you, Anastasia, you're my best friend. I love you." she tells me before giving me one last kiss and hug before releasing me and exiting without a fuss.

As the door closes, I have time to study the item Leila had slipped into my hands, it was a ring which was obvious from the fiddling with her index finger before giving it to me. A sad smile creeps across my face as I study the ring, a teal stone is set in a beautiful silver band which is decorated in small patterns. It was her mothers wedding ring. Leila's fingers are slightly bigger than mine so the only figure the ring fits on is my thumb but it is fine. I give my hand a shake to ensure it doesn't fall off, even if it did I am sure I could find a chain to put it on and instead wear it as a necklace.

Embarrassingly as I wave my hand like a frantic lunatic, a Peacekeeper opens the door and I mentally prepare myself to leave for the train but the man steps aside to allow one last visitor to enter into the custody room. It was my mother, her blond hair is pinned back into a sophisticated bun revealing sharp features which have sagged over time, she wears a formal blue dress similar to mine except it is full length. Her new gold wedding band glistens on her fourth finger. Awkwardly she approaches me but I am so shocked and angered by her presence, I am glued to the floor giving her the chance to wrap her arms around me and hug me lightly.

I tense up beneath her embrace. "Shouldn't you be hugging your daughter?" I question in a spit.

My mother pulls away from me. "I am hugging my daughter."

Bubbles of anger rise in my stomach fluttering to my chest, I am beyond understanding or listening to this woman's logic but this point and I shrug her off violently. "You lost this daughter along time ago." I tell her.

"Anastasia, I am your mother –" she starts but I interrupted with a cackle.

"Mother? Where have you been the last three years? At the times when not just I, when Michael needed you, he has been more of a parent to me in these last three years than you ever have and what have you done for him? You abandoned him!" I bellow.

My mother cowers, "What was I suppose to do? He scares me."

Another sadistic laugh echoes from the base of my throat, "Be a mother, love him and guide him. The Games destroyed him and you didn't even have the common sense let alone the guts to help him. You left that to me, a thirteen year old when you couldn't be asked to help anymore and you married the pig you have been fucking since before my dads death!"

The women stepped forward pointing her finger at me like I was five-years-old. "You have no right –"

I size up to her, completely unafraid of her if you saw her neither would you, five-foot and stick like, "I have every right. Now if you don't mind, I have a train to catch." I say before yelling for the Peacekeeper's who opens the door, "She is finished with her goodbye."

My mother grips my arm, "No! Anastasia please! Maria would listen." she tells in my face as the Peacekeeper removes her from me. I go to charge at her but luckily another Peacekeeper has positioned itself between us.

"Maria would have kicked your ass, so be glad I am not her." and that is all I could say before the two Peacekeeper's and my mother had disappeared out of the door and down the corridors of the Justice Building closing the door behind themselves.

It doesn't bother me in the slightest that these could be my last words to her, but a mother isn't just someone that gives birth, a mother cares for her children and loves them through their darkest times.

She is not a mother. Just a surrogate.

******A/N: please review! But also remember to favourite and follow if you are enjoying.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Train Journey

Chapter Three.

**The Train Journey.**

Five minutes later, a Peacekeeper removes me from the custody room and escorts me to a car. It was a short ride from the Justice Building to the train station. I was very right not to cry as the station was swarming with reporters with camera directed on my face. As a young girl I have been through plenty of incredibly boring classes and living with Michael I have seen first hand what the games do to you and I am less than impressed by the reporters calling us not by our names but 'tributes'. I ensure my face is wiped clean of all emotions, I notice a television screen broadcasting my arrival live and I feel an blossoming sense of pride as on the monitor I look almost bored.

Garrett Larkin, the same as I looked completely unfazed by the cameras and the reporters. For some reason we are required to stand in the doorway of the train for several minutes whilst the cameras gobble up our images, then we're allowed inside and the doors close mercifully behind us as the train begins to move at once pelting me sidewards into Garrett. I blush furiously, "Sorry." I mumble. The speed of the train frightens me as I have never been on a train as travel between the districts is strictly forbidden except for official duties. The model train can reach up to high-speeds of 300 miles per hour meaning our journey will take less than a couple of hours.

The tribute train is unbelievably fancy, rich coloured walls, polished furniture with flowers resting on every spare surface. Dieter Rollo shows us to our chambers as we are each given one that homes a bedroom, a dressing area and a private bathroom with hot and cold running water, stacked high of shelves are strange looking liquids in equally as strange bottles. The draws inside the bedroom are filled with clothes made from fine material. I am told to do anything I wish, wear anything I want for the reason that everything is at my disposal with the only exception that I was to be ready for dinner in an hour. I peel off my sisters blue dress and take a shower, despite the fact it takes me five minutes to figure out how to use it, I am rinsed quickly. I pick out a simple black trousers that cling close to my skin and sky blue shirt made of silk,. I pin my fringe backwards from my face because it was beginning to annoy me.

With twenty-five minutes to spare before dinner was scheduled, I leave the safety of my chamber to find the dining carriage and luckily it was the carriage over from where my chamber was placed. I stood still in the rocking compartment as the doors all automatically opened for me. The dining room was beautifully set out with a large table to the right by a large bay window, the walls were made from polished panels and the frosted glass window placed behind the head chair at the table, which Dieter Rollo sat at, was decorated, more in my opinion ruined, by the Panem symbol.

Seated at the table in the first chair behind the back was Finnick, opposite him was Michael who looked distressed. Dieter greeted me with a wide grin urging me to sit opposite him in the chair between Finnick and Michael. With no room to argue I take the seat in silence. Finnick's eyes travel to mine but I cannot fathom what emotion is being portrayed in those sea misted eyes. Michael doesn't acknowledge my presence, like me he is no doubt in shock about the reaping but it must be worst for him, having to Mentor his sister, training her for death, it is no surprise he doesn't speak.

"How are you feeling?" Finnick asks me as he runs the tip of his index finger around the rim of his china cup filled with tea. Dieter laughs, very loudly, as if Finnick's question was stupid, my escort picks up his own china teacup and saucer before taking a sip.

"Honoured I should think you feel. Being a tribute to represent your district is a huge honour." Dieter says strongly.

I scoff quietly, "Not an honour I asked for." I whisper to myself but loud enough for the men to hear. Dieter's face screws up like he'd sucked on a sour sweet.

Michael leans forward hastily gripping my wrist tightly, "How is this even possible? Six out of two thousand. Did you secretly take a tesserae? We have far too much money for you to –"

"Michael." Finnick warns, my brothers eyes automatically drop from my face and release my wrist in response to his old mentors voice, "You two, especially, should know first hand these games are far from fair. All we can do now is ensure we guide her well."

Michael nods faintly, the electric door behind me slides open with a hiss and Garrett enters with his wet hair brushed away from his face to reveal his true features: strong, high cheekbones and a large jaw. Like me, he has discarded off his reaping clothing and changed into something more suitable for our destination. I was both shocked and angered by my thoughts that he looked relatively handsome in a white shirt unbuttoned slightly and tucked into a pair of non-creased chinos.

Dieter arises from his chair, "There is my other tribute! Garrett please sit." he says pleasantly gesturing to any chair free and the tribute didn't refuse. "Such well mannered and punctual pair we have this year." he gushed in the direction of Michael, who grunts, and Finnick who remained silently as he studies Garrett as he helps himself to hot tea.

"Strengths?" Finnick asks once the two men had made awkward eye contact for about five seconds. Garrett looks mildly confused for a second before the boy realised his mentor was talking about abilities, specially the things he is good at.

"I can use a trident pretty well." Garrett replies.

Finnick raises an eyebrow, a trident is what young, fourteen-year-old Finnick used to win his games, "Are you fast?"

_Very, _I interject in my head but Garrett glances in my direction with an uneasy glare in his eyes, he then turns away and gives a half-hearted shrug, "I suppose I am." he replies. I can tell by the awkwardness in his voice that Garrett is not comfortable speaking of his strengths and weaknesses in front of another tribute, despite me being from his district, a natural ally.

Michael shakes his head, "There is no, _I suppose. _Either you are, or you aren't pretty boy."

Garrett seems slightly angered by my brother remark, "Pretty boy?" I question but my enquiry falls on deaf ears as my district partner turns to his mentor angrily.

"It isn't my fault I do not feel comfortable talking off my abilities in front of another tribute who will be trying to kill me in a weeks time." Garrett says defensively, Michael's eyes turn to daggers but Garrett looks passed him to me. "I'm sorry Anastasia but you have to understand –"

"– I completely understand." I interrupt, "In fact I think it's better that way. Keep your strengths close but keep your weaknesses closer." I say, Garrett nods and for the first time, I see him smile, it is faint but there, a smile of thankfulness.

Finnick joins the conversation, "Maybe you guys would be liked to be mentored separately? I will mentor Ana and if Garrett you don't mind you will be mentored by Michael."

I nod frantically before Garrett can object, being mentored by Finnick will be much better than if I was mentored by Michael, not because Finnick was more experienced, however that did contribute to idea but so the brother-sister relationship between me and Michael won't cloud his judgement or mentoring advice.

Garret nods, slightly uncomfortably. "Then it's settled." of course, the atmosphere is dense and awkward, so this was a perfect time for happy and overly excited Dieter Rollo to jump up from his chair at the table narrowly missing knocking it upwards by millimetres and announces that dinner is ready, sure enough like it had been rehearsed over and over again, a Avox girl with electric blue hair, dressed in a beautiful green silk tunic top and black silk trousers entered dragging alone a tray on wheels behind herself. Our meal comes in a series of courses starting off with a minuscule plate of pasta in a rich sauce followed by a steak joint each with fresh vegetables, roasted parsnip and spinach; a bowl of sliced fruit then finishing with a over sized piece of chocolate cake with three layers of cream neatly spaced throughout. Between courses Dieter is always telling Garrett and I to save space because there is more coming but I stuff myself because the food is exquisite, I have always been well fed but never have I had food such as this and between now and the Games the best thing I can probably do is put on a few pounds, maybe even a stone.

Once the meal is finished and the Avox has cleaned the plates and any food not eaten, I am leant back in my chair allowing my stomach to bulge as I struggle to keep the meal down. As I look over to Garrett, he is looking far too green for good and within minutes, the boy had covered his mouth and sprinted from the carriage back through to our chambers. Finnick give Michael a disapproving glance, my brother sighs before pushing his chair away from the table and stalking after his tribute. Finnick takes this time to awkwardly embrace me over the table taking both me and Dieter by surprise. He then pulls away to look at me strongly, he studies my facial features carefully, Finnick was an incredibly strange individual, I think winning at a young age allowed him to connect with tributes better than most.

After a second he leant backward in his chair, never breaking his stare, "Ana, I know you and Garrett may not be the best of friends but until the Game start, I want you and him to stick relatively together and find a common ground; sponsors. The citizens of the Capitol are twice as likely to sponsor you if they believe two district members are close, tricking them into thinking you are a team." Finnick explains clearly, "Do not worry, right now Michael is telling Garrett the same exact thing because when your brother was a tribute, I told him and his fellow district partner to do the same and the citizens of the Capitol responded well and they got good sponsors."

Of course I remember that game well, I watched in fear for fifteen days as my brother was cut, beaten and starved. I witnessed my brother become a murderer just as he will watch me become a monster. During his time of the games, Michael received sponsored gifts such as high protein soup, miracle ointments and even weapons such as blades. His district partner, Chantry Affleck, also received weapons, night-vision goggles and a substantial amount of food. I nod to Finnick showing him that I understand.

Dieter stands up and speaks through the silence, "We only have a little while until we reach the Capitol. Maybe Anastasia should go and look over the reaping footage from the other eleven districts?" my escort suggest. Finnick agrees.

I push out my chair, "I suppose I should go ask Garrett if he wants to watch it with me." I say with a mocking sigh, Finnick smiles whilst rolling his eyes at me as he joins in on my mock and pats my arm before I leave.

My legs wobble as the carriage rocks. Garrett's chamber was down the thin corridor from mine, Michael passes me in the swap over compartment, he doesn't say anything but he smiles lightly. The electric door of Garrett's room opens expectantly, the sudden hiss of air brings Garrett almost running into his bedroom from the bathroom, in his mouth he holds a toothbrush as foam lines the inner-rims of his upper and bottom lips. My stomach knots and I am suddenly all nervous, not in a stupid girl crush kind of way just whenever I look at him I imagine him dead, lifeless and cold.

"I...I, wanted to know if you wanted to watch the reaping footage from the other districts with me?" I blurt out taking Garrett back. I chuckle lightly as panic wipes his face, "It's just that we have a little over an hour and a half before we arrive in the Capitol and there isn't any time to watch them separately."

Garrett is silent. I raise my hand in a mocking surrender, "Unless you don't want to see them, its fine. Sorry, I'll leave." then I turn to walk away but his voice calling my name twirls me around. Garrett takes one large step forwards towards me.

"Finnick talk to you about the Capitol sponsors?" he asks.

I smile, "Is it that obvious?"

Garrett smiles, a real smile as he nods, "A little. Anastasia I want to be friends but how can we? In a week we are to kill each other, I cannot build a friendship before that fate."

I nod, "I don't expect you too, I simple want to trick the sponsors, get as many as possible. To stay alive."

"I agree completely. Maybe we can do allies instead of friends?" he asks, "We stick together, act like best friends and keep an eye on each other during training?"

It was the perfect arrangement, looking out for each other as a team but without the emotional ties because once in the arena, all the ties would be cut loose, to me he is just another person trying to kill me and that is how I am to be to him. I don't want mercy from him because I couldn't give it to him because if I had the chance I would kill him. I want to go home just as much as any other tribute but I want to go home to prove to my mother I don't need her, to make her watch as I live a comfortable life without her, but what about the nightmares, the mentoring and constant reliving of my games.

I stick out my hand. "Allies, not friends." I vow.

Garrett reaches for my hand and shakes it, like we did on the stage in front of our district. "Allies." he vows. As he pinches my hand a strange tingle shoots up to my neck as I image his hands snaked around my throat slowly dragging me into unconsciousness and then into death. A sleep like death where I can fish with my father and laugh with my sister.

Myself and Garrett use the end compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem but the television in the carriage has them all on record so we do not have to stick to the Capitol's programme schedule. I bring my knees to my chest as Garrett sits with his legs out in front of him and one by one we watch the reapings, listen to the names being called, the volunteer's who step forward however many do not. We study the faces of the young and elder tributes, the children that will be our competition. A few stand out such as the two volunteer's from District 1, a monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2 and a boy from District 9 who takes his brothers place on the stage. A fifteen-year-old girl from District 10 who trips on her own two feet and a young boy with dark skin from District 11 who cannot be any older then thirteen. But most hauntingly, a pair of siblings are reaped together from District 7.

Garrett who is in charge of the remote selects our reaping video. I can understand why he wants to watch it, our reactions will be watched by every other tribute and like we are to them, they will study us and pick off the weak ones. In the Hunger Games, pre-trained tributes such as most volunteer's from District 1, 2 and surprisingly 4 are nick named Career Tributes because of the advantage they have, however training before the games is strictly illegal but District 1, 2 and 4 tributes are always Capitol favourites and are allowed a pass. The more entertaining the games will be.

The sky falls into twilight, we finish studying the other tributes and make our way slowly to our chambers despite not having long until we reach the Capitol I feel it is best we salage whatever sleep we can get as I have no idea what tomorrow will entail. My chamber door slides shut and I strip off my clothing throwing them onto the dressing table before fiddling in my draws for some sort of nightgown, I pull on a green silk dress-thing and slip into bed which is also made of beautiful soft material and the thick, fluffy quilt give me immediate warmth but my dress doesn't flow with my body making me feel horrendously uncomfortably, so I drag the garment over my head to lay in just my underwear.

Crying comes to mind as now, alone and hidden from anyone and the cameras, this is the perfect time to cry but nothing happens. No tears come and instead anger takes its place as I begin to question how does this prove anything, killing children to stop a rebellion, if anything surely it would start a rebellion as there are plenty of parents in all twelve districts angered by the reapings and hurt by the slaughter of their children as the entire nation watches just for the Victor to prance around the districts reading out fake speeches when all they are really thinking is, _I don't care about your son/daughter, I am alive and they are not. _And I cannot fathom why they think the district of the fallen tributes would want to see the victor, it is disrespectful and uncalled for but what can we do about it? We wouldn't survive another rebellion. It is true, in fact that is the only thing the Capitol has right. Fuck all chance of a rebellion, everyone is too afraid.

My numb body relaxes into the luxury, as I embrace my imminent death, I relax as for now I am safe, if only for a week. My body should learn that now if the time to relax so when the games begin, I am ready to be on guard. I allow the rocking train to sooth me to deep sleep.

XxX

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a huge and fabulous day!" the high pitched and far-to-jolly-for-morning voice of Dieter Rollo calls me to rise prodding at my shoulder. My eyelids are stuck together with sleep but I manage to pry them open with some brute force. Grey morning light leaks through the curtains shinning on my face as I sit up suddenly remembering that I am simply clothed in my underwear but Dieter doesn't seem too mind my partial nudeness. Informs me that breakfast is waiting then leaves.

Slightly confused by Dieter's attitude, I slip out of bed and pull back on my outfit from yesterday as I don't see how it is dirty and guide my sluggish early morning body to the dinning compartment, the door slides open and I am rushed by Dieter has he hands me a cut of sweet smelling liquid. I slide into a seat at the table next to Garret and I am greeted by a large platter of food, including: eggs, bacon and piles of fried potatoes. Along the middle of the table are baskets of bread rolls, a metal tureen of fruit sits in ice to keep it chilled. In front of my plate to the right is a elegant glass which is empty of content but two large glass jugs were placed up the other end of the table by Finnick and Michael, one filled with orange juice and the other apple juice.

Inside the marble made cup that Dieter had given me was hot chocolate, despite never having it before I didn't hesitate to take a sip, rich and creamy liquid flooded my body and I drained my cup before beckoning for more. My brother gave me a more than disapproving glance but I didn't care. Unknowing of the tribute schedule for today I stuff myself with food being overly cautious not to eat too much of one thing in case I felt sick, to my right I was amusingly watch Garrett pick and eat the breakfast food gentle as he doesn't want another repeat of dinner times events.

No one had spoken until Garrett, "So, at the Cornucopia what is the best way for someone to –"

_Kill someone, _I finish his sentence inside my head but he is silenced by the sudden darkness of the cart, there are minor lights on inside the compartment like under cupboard lights and ones hidden by the metal beans but it is still dark enough for me to be able to show panic but not be detected. The outside behind window in front of us has also become black as if night had fallen again, it is then I realise we must be going through one of the tunnels that leads through the mountains into the Capitol. The mountains are natural barrier between the Capitol and other districts.

The tunnel goes on and on leaving Garrett Larkin and I along with our mentors sitting in silence. It was strange as the darkness has never frightened me but trains do and the overloading thoughts of the mountain falling in onto the train, trapping or killing us does make my chest tighten uncomfortably. Surrounding me, I feel the train slow as a sudden burst of bright light floods into the compartment and we cannot help ourselves. Garrett and I run around the side of the table where no one was sat to gawk out of the window to witness what we have only seen on television. The Capitol, ruling city of Panem. The camera's never captured the magnificences of the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that rise, unstoppably into the sky. Shiny metallic cars roll down the wide paved streets, going about their daily lives are oddly dressed people with wild and bizarre hair and painted faces.

Young children first begin to point at us eagerly as they recognize the tribute train rolling into the city, I do not step away from the window but I am sickened by their excitement knowing they cannot wait to watch us die. Soon their parents or maids join in. Garrett doesn't do anything but these people are our lifeline so I buck up the courage to smile and wave at the nosey crowd until they are blocked away from view by the train pulling into the station. I turn to Garrett who looks wide eyed at me in shock, I shrug before pulling away from the window.

"Who know?" I say, "One of them might be rich enough to sponsor us."

Garrett raises an eyebrow as he comes to grips with the fact he missed an opportunity to flare some sponsors, but I haven't so I do not bother to say anything more about it. Dieter gathers us all up, mentors included for a huddle before we are to step off the train.

"In a few minutes, you will be put into the hands of your stylists for the Games!" Dieter blushes all excited almost hopping whilst clapping his hands.

Finnick draws in a deep breath, "You're probably not going to like that they do to you but no matter what it is –"

"Do not resist." Michael interrupts sternly.

A knot forms in my chest that they expect me to be totally fine with allowing a group of strange Capitol people to do what they wish with me. "But –" I begin.

"No buts, Anastasia, non. You are not to resist." my brother says almost angrily. "Do you both understand?"

Our District 4 team looks at us like hawks for an answer, first to Garrett who nods and splutters. "Yes." and then to me, I lick my lips, still unsure about how I feel about the next scheduled event but I nod to keep the peace between my mentor, brother and escort.

And then we are escorted, like in District 4, from the train by Peacekeepers, Garrett sticks to my side with his hand gently placed on my arm to keep us from getting separated as we battle the camera's and reports for a way through to the Remake Centre.


	4. Chapter 4: The Remake Centre

Chapter Four.

**The Remake Centre.**

I am laid out stiff on a cold metal operating table like a piece of meat being surveyed and prepared for a meal. I grit my feet as Coren, a man with shoulder-length mandarin coloured hair which is tied back into a ponytail with a ribbon, pale skin with tattooed lips and eyebrows, pulls a fabric strip coated with sticky liquid from my leg removing the hairs beneath it in a painful jerk. I had considered going against my promise to Michael and Finnick, to resist what my prep-team was doing to me. I shaved in District 4 occasionally and I wasn't tremendously hairy so I have no idea why I have been laid out on this metal table inside the Remake Centre for more than two hours and I still haven't met my stylist as slowly section by section Coren and my other prep-team member Shazza, a youngish women with flamingo pink hair tied up sharply from her face with black lipstick, no tattoos but her eyebrow is pierced three times with thin metal rings, painfully remove hairs from my legs, torso, underarms along with private areas, my upper lip and small parts of my eyebrows leaving me feeling plucked like a chicken ready for roasting as apparently the Capitol feels we need to be dressed like one of there own.

"You're very calm." Shazza comments nicely, a pain filled scream erupts from another section of the centre. Coren rolls his eyes at Shazza who turns back to me, "If there is one thing we cannot stand, it is a whiner." she explains.

I am angered by my prep-teams attitude but I nip my lips together to stop my speaking out of turn, my muscles shiver as I sit up before swinging my legs over the edge and lowering myself gently onto the cold stone floor. Slipping off my thin robe allowing the cold air to cling to my now hairless body to stand, completely naked in front of these strangers. Knowing I should be very embarrassed by my private area's being shown but these people, if you can even call them that, are so unlike any of the people I have known in District 4 resulting in me not being as self-conscious as I feared when first escorted into my section of the room.

Coren uses a bristled scrub coated with lumpy aqua blue lotion, he rubs me down with the lotion that removes the flaky skin but also two layers of perfectly fine skin beneath. Once he is down, Shazza hoses me down with warm water. My skin becomes red and blood spotted, Coren has discarded the bristled scrub and gently massages my body with a megenta lotion that stings incredibly at first but then smoothes my raw skin nicely.

"Perfect!" my prep-team gushes. I force my lips into a smile to show fake gratitude.

Shazza hands me by robe and beckons me to put it on, "Allow me to take you to Vibia."

In the short walk to the meeting room, I do not encouter nor catch any glimpse of other tributes, not even the girl who let out a scream of pain. The room was tiled with white light reflecting tiles from floor-to-ceiling, my prep-team did not hang around and leaves me sitting on the metal table Coren had wheeled in as there is no other seating availble inside this room. Across the room was another door sealed shut.

The entrace doors to my left open and a women enters who must be my stylist Vibia. She is very beautiful, tall and slender dressed in tight black leather trousers that cling to her curveless body with a coral velvet shirt with a black and gold tie hung around her throat. Unlike the other stylist's I have been on television, Vibia has not – as far as I can tell – been surgically altered. She has dead-straight neon blue hair that reaches the middle of her back with a level fringe hiding her eyebrows, the tips of her hair are dyed with bright string green dye.

"Hello Anastasia, I am Vibia, your stylist." She introduces herself, of course, she harbours one of those incredibly stupid Capitol accent. I smile faintly but i do not reply as I feel I would be interrupting her train of thought as Vibia circles me, gently tugging off my robe – I do not resist – to inspect my named body, she does not touch me but her lime green eyes take in every centimetre of my bare skin with her eyes. "You are very beautiful. Well build, but short." she tells me before handing me my robe again."Shall we have a chat?"

Vibia struts across the room, opening the off limits door before waiting for me. We enter into the sitting room where two red velvet sofa's face eachother over a low glass table. Three of the four walls are blanket; the forth is made of entire glass providing a look over the city. Judging by the sun I can estimate it is about noon, maybe later. Vibia invites me to sit down on one of the sofas and then she takes her place opposite me. Vibia presses a button on the side of the glass table, the top splits and from below rises a second tabletop that holds our lunch. Shrimps coated in a garlic sauce laying on a bed of white rice, a long rectangle plate of crackers and for dessert, a plain sponge coated with custored and syrup.

"So, my partner Tiberius, who is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Garrett. Our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes." Vabia says, "As you know it is customary to reflect the job of the districts within the outfit."

For the opening ceremonies, you're suppose to wear something that suggests your district's major industry. District 12, coal mining. District 7, lumber. District 3, technology. Which means simply that coming from District 4, Garrett and I will be dressed in some kind of fishermen's outfit. I distinctly remember one year, our tributes were dressed in standard fishing nets with nothing on underneath with a headpiece that resembeled the waves and fish leaving nothing to the imagination of the Capitol people.

"Are you aware who Poseidon is?" Vibia questions me,

I nod, "God of the sea." I say trying to hide the flicker of strange emotion towards my stylist as she must asume that because I am not from the Capitol, I lack any other sort of education aside from English, Maths and Science. Vibia hands me a photo that she had pulled free from a black folder that sat beside her and hands it to me, my eyes flicker across the photo of a beautiful women standing in the sea, she has soft brown hair that flows in soft curls to her back with electric green eyes that stand to attention compared to her pale skin. She is clothed in a loose fitting white gown which is gently tinted blue – which is probably responsible for the obvious nip-slip – with a gold belt. Lacing through her hair are pearls and seaweed. It was beautiful, the entire thing.

"That is Amphitrite, Poseidon's wife and the Goddess of the sea." Vabia explains, "This is the theme for you and your district partners outfits."

In no less than one hour, I am finally dressed in what is going to be my second chance to charm the Capitol citizens into sponsoring me in the Arena. My body is covered by a halter neck white dress that draps across the floor dangerously close to my feet, despite not having to walk in these heels I can smell trouble before it happens. Around my waist is a skinny gold belt and around my upper arms are chunky bracletes which clamp around my muscle. My hair has been gelled back into place revealing my face so I am not forgotten in the games, with a beautiful jem headpiece that symbols the waves of the sea back home in District 4. My face is relatively clear of make-up, just a bit of highlighting here and there.

"Beautiful." Vibia says to herself once she is finished filling in my eyebrows. I grin at my reflection, for the first time in my life, aside from the reapings, I look like a girl. I look like my sister, Maria. Vibia wastes no time in whisking me in an elevator down to the bottom level of the Remake Centre, which is essentially a gigantic stable. Vibia guides me to the fourth chariot in the line of twelve before telling me I am not to leave, of course I wouldn't dream of it and Vibia tells me that she is going to stay but she catches sight of Cinna, District 12's stylist and scampers off like a mouse after cheese, leaving me alone with not one, but four huge white beasts called horses.


	5. Chapter 5: The Tribute Parade

Chapter Five.

**The Tribute Parade.**

I am alone but I don't mean that in a stupid emotional way. Literally, I am alone. Finnick and Michael are nowhere to be seen; Vibia is entwined in a deep conversation with Cinna and Shazza has gone in search of a necklace because despite the outfit connecting behind my neck in a gold clasp and drapes over my chest, my neckline is apparently far too bare. Above me in the Remake Centre, Garrett is still being dressed by his stylist Tiberius. Turns out the idea for our outfits was the hidden genius of Finnick. Dressing up as husband and wife would have added effect on the Capitol people. If they realise who we are.

I stand in front of the carriage I was assigned too and left by Vibia so I do not look pathetically lonely as I stroke gently the long face of the front right horse that will be responsibly for pulling mine and Garrett's chariot through the streets of the Capitol to the centre where myself and the other twenty-three tributes will hear from President Snow in a public address. Eight chariots down, I watch Vibia say goodbye to Cinna before finding another stylist to have a conversation with. Cinna, unexpectedly, comes over to greet me pleasantly, almost blinded by the fact I will be attempting to kill his tributes in a weeks time. Unlike my prep-team, he looks normal with natural dark chocolate skin and light brown hair, pieced through his ears and nose are gold hoops, nothing overly fancy with a thin line of gold make up over his eyelash line on his upper lip much like my own.

"I'm a fan." I say as soon as he reaches me. _Fuck-sake Anastasia, real perfect time to fan-girl, _the voice of reason hisses inside my skull but it is too late now, Cinna laughs playfully, it is sweet and gentle, completely natural unlike the rest of the stylists and prep-teams.

"Vibia has done a brilliant job," he says circling my like the others had hours before, I am more relaxed with Cinna as he is not planning to painfully remove hairs from my body, however his female tributes is looking at me like she is planning to painfully remove my arms. "Very beautiful." he comments.

I smile weakly letting out a small laugh, "They won't recognise me in the arena." I joke lightly but there is an underlining seriousness in my voice.

He touches my shoulder lightly before removing it, "Every tribute changes in the arena, Miss Hollern." he assures me as he then flattens down a odd piece of hair.

I shrug half-heartedly, "I guess we do." I mumbles, it was true of course, every tribute changes mentally you become scarred, physically the starvation steals curves and attractiveness but truthfully, twenty-three will die a murderer, one will have to live with the grief of the kills. The blood that stains there hands for the rest of his-or-hers life until they eventually too die.

"Well, Princess," Cinna starts stepping backwards, "I bid you goodbye and good luck." he then clamps his hands together in a mock prayer before bowing slightly, turning on his heels and walking confidently back to the tributes of District 12.

I raise my hand up to say goodbye before turning back to the horse who looks angered by the shift of attention. A loud crash then echoes from in front of me, I look around the beast to see a fallen female tribute, I recognise the young girl from the reaping videos, District 10, Cassandra I think her name is. Her stylists help the girl to her feet, I would have helped but tribute-to-tribute contact is rare at this stage. Immediately following the noise of the fallen girl, a burst of laughter from a mixture of genders, booms through the surroundings echoing from behind me. I jerk my head backwards to see a group of four tributes who have gathered between their chariots to the side opening talking. The group consists of both tributes from District 1 and 2. I remember that both tributes from District 1 are volunteers which doesn't surprise me as just looking I can tell they are both strong. Only the huge muscular brute from District 2 was a volunteer, the girl was just unluckily like the rest of us.

My eyes fell upon the male from District 2, he was tall maybe six-foot and built very well, large muscular arms and a chest to match with a set of horse like legs that suggest he can move quickly. The boys hair was bleach blonde and his eyes are icy blue. It is the District 2 version of Finnick Odair, well trained and not afraid to snap a neck or two. These two District are what probably will make up the Career Pack this year, well trained tributes who kill swiftly and easily, it is almost a relief the Career's this year are that well trained, means the games will be hopefully over quicker, the show for the Capitol will be entertaining and my death will be clean and over with quickly.

The District 1 tribute pair are beautifully dressed in silk outfits with stick on jems covering the bare skin allowed to show. The District 2 pair are dressed in similar golden armour like Roman gladiators with headbands made from golden flakes cut into leaf shape to make a diadem that rested onto of their heads. Gold pieces almost cut into elongated diamonds to create the effect of feathers, the halter neck finishes just below the chin securing protectively their necks in place. Maybe a pre-Hunger Games arrangement I don't know. My stomach knots uncomfortably as I find myself staring directly at the District 2 male tribute, my head becomes fuzzy and I am very confused as to why but it isn't long before he notices me staring like a creepy paedophile and points me out to his fellow Careers.

I turn away in a blind panic, relieved to see Garrett walking towards me. My jaw almost hots the floor, he looked incredibly handsome. He wore a cloth wrapped around his waist that draped to his knees revealing impressive calf muscles, the upper half of the dress-like-outfit is a over the shoulder wear leaving a large section of his chest bare. Around his arms we wear the same gold bands and his hair is pushed back and he too wears a headpiece symbolising the waves of the sea.

"Vibia did a great job with you." Garrett says gesturing to my outfit and when I go to return the compliment, I couldn't string two sentences together and luckily he laughs at me playfully and nudges me in a friendly manor.

Suddenly after ten minutes of agonising alonement, Vibia , Shazza and Tiberius all join me and Garrett at the chariot where a voice over the speakers tell the tributes to mount onto the transportation platforms on the back of our chariots. Vibia then positions us perfectly and we are instructed the stay like this throughout the ride. The horses were arranged into a pattern of black, white, black, white.

The opening music begins and the massive stable doors slide open revealing the crowed lined streets. District 1 are pulled out immediately, up a small hill and into the streets and the crowd explodes into roaring cheers. District 1 makes luxury items for the Capitol. Out of the three favourites, District 1 is the most popular. Five seconds pass until District 2 are released from the stable, up the small hill and into the streets of the Capitol. And the pattern of leaves, climbs and into the streets continue and within fifteen seconds of the parade starting, Garrett and mines horses move without order, I am given no warning so as the horse trots off, I am thrown backwards but Garrett's large hands grip me and secure me before I can fall.

"Thank you." I mumble. He pats me back with a smile and luckily I was not in the view of the public eyes. They scream our district number but not as many call our names, it is a mixture of the Capitol citizens not knowing or they couldn't be asked to listen during the reaping but I do hear a couple of voices yelling 'Anastasia' that takes me by surprise. As I look around I notice a large television monitor and I am stunned by, excuse my vainness, how beautiful I look. Vibia was right about the minimal make-up; we both look more attractive but utterly recognizable. The people of the Capitol are going nuts, showering us with flowers. I am hit with an overwhelming sense of strange delight but I plaster a gleaming smile on my face and use my spare hand to wave like a lunatic, adrenaline pumps through my veins and even blow a few kisses. The bright colours of the Capitol population begins to hurt my eyes but I set aside the discomfort and continue to wave and smile whilst attempting to catch one of the flowers thrown from the crowd but I am unsuccessful however Garrett does manage to catch a white Lily, he turns smoothly to hand it too me, he winks as I give it a delicate sniff never breaking our stare. The crowd erupts in a series of _ahh's _as I blush violently. I do not think it is far to present us as a team, or even as more when they plan to throw us into an arena to kill each other, but I do not question it. Our fake friendship or romance depending on how the people of the Capitol feel about flower giving, but this arrangement is the only way I will live longer in the games.

The twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle. On the buildings that surround the Circle, every single window and ledge is packed with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. Our horses pull our chariot right up to President Snow's mansion and we come to a halt and the music ends with a flourish. The president is a small, thin man with snow-white hair similar to our horses. He give us the official welcome from a balcony above us. All the camera's flick away from our faces to capture the president speech. The camera holds its gaze on the chariots, flicking from tribute pair to tribute pair. The chariots parade one last time in a circle and disappears into the Training Centre.

Once District 12's chariot is inside, the doors close and we're engulfed by our prep-teams, who babble out praise to us, Garrett doesn't need help down from the chariot but at only five-foot-four, the step from the chariot to the floor is like a cliff jump. Vibia and Tiberius eagerly rush us over to an elevator hidden in the far wall but the others move a little faster than I am able to move so as I attempt to speed up, I wobble on my heels snagging the fabric of my dress beneath my shoe causing my to trip forward. In the panic of the moment, I grip onto the closest thing to me, which just happens to be another tribute. I gather my self before pulling my eyes up to stare into the icy blue eyes of District 2. I quickly remove my hands from his metal armour whilst mumbling apologise but he doesn't say anything, instead his district partner turns around and shoves me off.

"Watch your step, Princess!" she hisses angrily as if it was her I had gripped onto. A chuckle pelts itself from my throat at the girls pathetic remark. Anger flickers through her eyes as she lunges towards me, hands out to wrap around my throat. The large hands of the boy grip his partners shoulders. "You better what yourself, Four!" she growls angrily.

I am infuriated by her threat and lung forward myself towards the girl. Garrett's voice breaks through the crowd that had formed as tributes watch us. Study us. A large hair of hands that belong to Garrett grip my shoulders and gently pull me away stepping between me and the girl. He stares deeply into my eyes whispering soothing words. My heart rate slowly begins to reduce as the rest of my prep-team gathers around me and then I am suddenly embarrassed by my response, now all the other tributes believe I am hot tempered.

As District 2 are ushered along with there prep-teams into the elevator, the boy with blue eyes catches my attention as he stares at me but his eyes are not angry, they are impressed mixed with an emotion I cannot tell, I turn away to study my prep-team who looks confused by the recent events but when I turn back to look at the District 2 boy, he is gone and my chest strains unexpectedly. What is happening to me?

******A/N: please review! But also remember to favourite and follow if you are enjoying.**


	6. Chapter 6: Home Sweet Home

Chapter Six.

**Home Sweet Home.**

The Training Centre has a tower designed exclusively for this years tributes and their teams. This will be our home/prison until the actual Games begin. Inside the elevator beside the glass door is a panel, the buttons are labelled according too what the floor holds. The bottom button is labelled 'training ground', then the next twelve buttons labelled 1 – 12 are the district floor, each district gets the entire floor, you simply step into an elevator and press the number of your district. Easy enough to remember. And the top button is labelled 'roof'. Maybe I will check that out later, will have to ask Finnick as I am unsure if tributes are allow up there.

As Garrett, myself and our stylists all ride in the elevator to the fourth floor, the atmosphere is cold so I advert my eyes from the metal panel that reflects our faces to the glass walls of the elevator and like the window in the sitting room, as the sky darkens the entire Capitol is displayed all lit up like a Christmas tree. I go to tug on Garrett's arm beside me but somehow it seems childish, so I re-frame my excitement.

Once inside our floor, we are greeted by Dieter Rollo, Michael and Finnick. They all compliment us just like our prep-teams had, I suspect that they had watched the live-broadcast of the tribute parade. Secretly I was relieved that Dieter was going to oversee us into the arena because he is always well organised and on-time, plus he knows everyone who's anyone in the Capitol and Finnick's overwhelming favouritism in the Capitol also projected well upon us. They have been hard at work getting us sponsors but only Michael and Finnick can seal the sponsor deals.

Vibia removes my headpiece allowing me to move my neck without fear of it falling off. "You two should go wash and change." she instructs us, Finnick shows us to our quarters. Garrett's bedroom was across from mine which wasn't a problem. He enters without a word leaving Finnick to gesture to my room. I open the door and I am instantly shocked by how fancy my space was, with adjoining bathroom and dressing area along with a large wardrobe. They are incredibly plush like the train cars but they also have so many more gadgets that I am sure I will not have time to press and experience all the buttons and their effect. The shower panel alone had more than hundred buttons for different options you can choose, regarding water temperature, pressure, massaging sponges, dispense of soaps, shampoos and scented oils. After washing, you step out onto the mat, heaters come on and blow-dry your body because apparently in the Capitol using towels is far too mainstream. I noticed a strange box placed on the wall beside the shower, but never the less I put my head inside and it send a sharp current through my scalp but it dried my hair instantly and also straighten it perfectly.

I was confused by the wardrobe asking me questions but I managed to figure out how to programme it to suit my style which was simply made up of trousers and non-revealing shirts. The entire far wall next to my bed is made from glass allowing a view over the Capitol, it also zooms in and out on parts of the city at my command. It also can portray pictures from its memory and when I ask for District 4, the computer replaces the city with the sea. I wanted the sea to be blue but they were black, night-time waters. The moon was positioned perfectly above the horizon masked slightly by mist clouds. You need only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steaming in less than a minute. But my nerves circulating my cause my stomach to act uneasy so instead of remaining cooped up inside my bedroom, I leave to walk down the small corridor towards the living room area, Dieter and Michael are seated on the horse-shoe shaped sofa taking. Finnick is out on the balcony with Vibia that overlooks the Capitol.

Tiberius goes to get Garrett and they both reach the table as soon as dinner is being served. Garrett takes the spare seat next to me, Finnick and Michael sit at either head chair. Tiberius, Vibia and Dieter sit opposite us. Like the meal on the train, the dinner comes in courses. First is a beetroot soup with goat cheese croutons followed by a seafood and vegetable risotto with red peppers, prawns, onions, mussels and clams and for dessert, a red wine velvet cake with whipped cream was placed in the center with a knife so we can serve ourselves as no one will finish at the same time. Eating speed is the one thing Dieter cannot control. The Avox servers are young people dressed in blue velvet tunics like the girl on the train, who move wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the patters and glasses full but I am unsure of what the liquid is, but halfway through my third glass, my mind feels foggy and my body uneven so I change to water once Finnick had given me a curious look. Once dinner is over, the Avox's clean the table of dirty plates and left over food. Vibia and Tiberius bid us goodbye and exit to there bedrooms. Michael remains seated but still drinking heavily so it is Finnick that addresses us about tomorrows plan.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I will instruct you on how you want to play it." say Finnick to Garrett and I. "Now go get some sleep and let the grown-up's talk."

"You mean put drunk Michael to bed." I whisper snidely as there is a hit of anger towards Finnick's last couple of words, _let the grown-up's talk. _Surely me and Garrett are more classify more as adults now than every before. But still I do not object because I fear Garrett may bring up the run in with District 2, so I hang behind trying to find my feet. Garrett walks off without me to his bedroom slamming the door behind himself. Finnick stands up to touch my shoulder and smiles proudly, his eyes glisten and his teeth show.

"Well done with District 2 by the way." he winks before patting my arm and walking around to table to retrieve my brother.

My mouth falls open. "How did you know?" I ask.

Finnick smiles secretively whilst raising his eyebrows and tapping the side of his nose. I tilt my head before copping his raised eyebrow look. He chuckles lightly, "Mentor's talk. Enobaria was impressed when she heard about you lunging after the girl and came to talk to me about an alliance between two and four, if your interested?" he asks wrapping my brothers arm around his neck and pulling the drunk to his feet.

Me? A Career? It is certainly unexpected but there are certainly perks, protection until the other tributes are dead, not going hungry and having medical supplies but then what? They turn on me and kill me without warning, plus District 1 and 2 tributes are friends, they are natural allies so trust will be their second nature for them, their first is overwhelming urge to kill. I would be the outside and first target but if I refuse, I am their first target anyway. "I'll think about it." I tell Finnick.

"Make sure you make your mind fast. If you refuse, you're their first target in the Arena." he confirms my thoughts before twisting around to drag my brother away from the dinning area and towards their corridor which is opposite to mine and Garrett's corridor, the other side of the large wall in front of the living room space and along the wall of glass.

Oh, I forgot, the roof! "Finnick!" I call a little too loudly than intended, but my mentor turns without hesitation with a questioning gaze but also a little alarmed, maybe he thought something was wrong.

"Yes?" he asks politely.

I step forward on impulse, "Are tributes allowed to go on the roof? I didn't know in case the Capitol were afraid tributes would try and throw themselves off."

Finnick laughs. "Yes, you're allowed." he says, I grin before turning around as excitement fills me but as he speaks again, I pause to turn. "When you're up there, put your hand out over the ledge, then you'll see why tributes cannot jump off." he challenges me.

An elevator is waiting behind glass doors the other side of a small room, no bigger than four-foot, I slip my key card into the pocket of my trouser pockets because otherwise I would be unable to get back in without waking someone. I step into the elevator and press the button for the roof, in a short minute a single bell rings to announce the arrival of the elevator, the electric doors slide open and I step into a glass conservatory. Along the sides of the conservatory are flowers of every colour lined up neatly inside long rectangular vases. On the two glass panels beside the doors of the conservatory is the Panem sigh, constantly reminding me where I am and why I am here.

But as I step out into the evening air, I don't care about the Panem signs or the gloomy approach of the Hunger Games. I am calm for once, no one is watching and I doubt they have sensors up here so I can truly relax and not worry that it will reflect badly on my team, mentors or district partner.

The rooftop was separated into four small gardens with a concrete stone slab path leading the way between them. I am stood in the far right garden, small trees grew around the outside with flowers sprouting between them. A lamppost is put into each garden section lighting up the roof so you do not injure yourself by tripping. I leant against the railings of the rooftop ledge, for now it is time to savour the little things that make you happy. A glance, a look or even the smallest sounds can bring you a sense of belonging. Unfortunately for me, my sense of belonging has been damaged, I am not a piece of history that will be forgotten when a new tribute pair are picked next year. My brother's story will develop as now he has a new chapter to his life, the training and death of his sister. Of course the Capitol will be crazed to add that to his video package.

I push those depressed thoughts away to the back of my mind and stare forward to study Panem at night. It was beautiful yet strange to think that a place with such blood-thirty citizens could be so beautiful at night when the excitement of the days events are over. And they sit down to value there children, unlike the rest of Panem who wait and watch filled with anxiety waiting to see who the first tribute to drop is.


	7. Chapter 7: The Rooftop And First Meeting

Chapter Seven.

**The Rooftop.**

The Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. Heights have never been a strong love of mine and just as I look down the side of the building to the ground below, it is enough to bring my food sliding up my throat but I could not help it. I continue to stare down as the people below scurry like ants. You can hear the rumbling echo of their cars and an occasional muffled shout, never in anger, their voices always seem to be laced with happiness. _Put your hand out over the ledge, then you'll see why tributes cannot jump off, _Finnick's voice echoes through my head, I hesitatingly out my hand over the edge, an electric zap erupts in unison to a sharp current that surges through my body staring at my fingertips, I jerk backwards clutching my hand to my chest, cradling it like a young child. "Finnick, you bastard." I hiss angrily as I move backwards from the ledge to take a seat on the wooden bench provided in the middle of the garden.

As the minutes tick by like hours, the wind becomes ice cold, pulling the woollen cardigan around my body, I wiggle my feet to get feeling in them again so I can stand up and walk around, across the pavement to the first left garden to look at a patch of beautiful pink roses. As I wonder aimlessly around the garden looking at the beautiful flowers and trees that show no reaction to the strong night-time wind. The face becomes numb and then I decide to leave, getting hypothermia is not on my agenda, keeping on hand across my chest to keep my cardigan in place, my hand glides into my pocket but my key-card is not there. "Oh shit." I mumble out loud, my hands search fumble over every section of my body in search for my key-card. And just to make the situation worse, a ping rings clearly from inside the conservatory.

My entire body flooded with adrenaline as I leap in the direction of the elevator but I do not give myself time to see who has entering onto the roof, I am already crouched down in the section hidden by the thick green hedge that lines the section. My heart accelerates and my sides clamp inwards with anxiety as the booted footsteps walk down the stone pathway between the gardens. As the person walks passed me, I manage to move around so I do not fall into his or hers eye line but, of course, my two legs feet and unable ability to keep balanced in times of need, the back heel of one of my feet step onto the long back of my cardigan tangling me and causing me to fall backwards into a sharp needle like shrub. The footsteps of the other person on the roof stops abruptly.

"Who is there?" the strong voice of a male asks firmly. What a stupid question really, like anyone is really going to simply admit their identity to a stranger when they ask, however I reluctantly untangle myself from the painfully pointy shrub as the footsteps echo nearer to me. "Don't be afraid." the boy says soothingly, I watch his feet through the gaps in the hedge. I cannot help but chuckle at his last statement, certainly wont be saying that in the Arena. The boys feet stop at the edge of the entrance to the garden. I stand up filling myself with every ounce of confidence I can muster from my shaking limbs to face the boy over the hedge tops. Embarrassment floods my face making it red but luckily due to the dim light I do not think the boy noticed, because the boy on the rooftop, was the tribute from District 2, he wears a thin white shirt with black trousers and a woollen jumper with his short blonde hair pushed back from his face.

The boy recognises me pretty quickly, his eyes flicker with the same embarrassment as mine but his features soften slightly, "I am not afraid." I say sternly stepping away from my spot in the corner to edge closer to him. Our stare never breaks as the corners of his luscious lips curve up a little into a grin which is somewhat wicked.

"If you're not afraid, what were you doing down there in the dirt?" the boy questions in an incredibly teasing tone. In a way, this boy from District 2 reminds me of Finnick Odair, teasing and confident. I am locked in his gaze completely helpless.

_Stop staring Ana! _A voice hisses in my head, I advert my gaze to look behind me pretending to scan the ground, "I have misplaced my key-card and I was trying to find it until you interrupted me." I say slightly with a hint of smugness.

The boy removes his hands from the pockets of his trousers introducing them to the brisk air, "Well considering I have interrupted you, I feel I should help you." he says, I watch him in bewilderment as he brushes passed me and begins to scan the grass and hedge line of this section.

My stomach leaps to my throat as I shake my head, "No, it's fine." I tell him but the boy doesn't listen and continues to search.

"I insist, Four." the boy says as he continues to search. I watch him in bewilderment, can this really be the boy who lunged forward during his last reaping to volunteer because he wanted to kill? "Where did you last have it?" he then suddenly asks,

"Erm...over here." I instruct walking from the this garden section back over to the far right garden, down on our knees in the dirt as we search the flower beds and hedge rows. Dirt embeds itself beneath my tails, "Nothing over here." I say once I have searched the entire ninety degree angle. The boy was still searching his section so I went to join him starting at the other end to meet in the middle. Unexpectedly the boy releases a laugh before holding up a thin metal key-card. I crawl over to him and take the key-card from him before stumbling to my feet listening to the sound of my knees crack as they straighten.

I am unable to suppress a smile as I glance up at the boy. "Thank you." I say, the boy returns my smile before standing there in silence. "What is your name?" I ask suddenly, shifting on his feet awkwardly the boy removed his gaze from mine before talking over to the ledge and leant on the railing. I remained stationary but I turned to study him carefully. He was much taller and better built up close, it is incredibly threatening, too think he could kill me now if he wanted. Only if he wanted, I guess it wouldn't be too late to replace me now.

"What are you good at, Four?" he asks me,

I raise an eyebrow out of disappoint, of course, how could I have been so stupid to think that a conversation with a Career tributes could go any differently than how likely are you to pose a threat to them. "Why are you interested?" I ask him in an abrupt manor, the boy turns around to study me whilst resting his elbow on the railing, his eyes groped me like a dirty pair of hand but I remain perfectly still.

"You have courage, defiant guts to stand up to Iris." the boy says calmly. Ah, so that was the name of the girl from District 2, what a stupid bloody name, I could really never understand that, why District's 1 and 2 see the need to give their children stupid names.

I scoff childishly, "To fight back when someone attacks me? A dog has that kind of courage." I say whilst crossing my arms over my chest, clutching my key-card in my right hand. The boy laughs before stepping forward towards me, he stands too close for comfort but I do not move away, his gently breaths tickle my face.

"Your Tribute Parade outfit was very pretty." he says flatteringly, "You should wear dresses more often." and then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right amount of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes though me.

A sever warning bell goes off in my head. _Don't be so stupid. This boy is planning how to kill you. _I remind myself, _he is luring you in to make you easy prey. The more likeable he is, the more deadly he is. _A sharp pain struck my chest as if someone had hit me but he had not. No one had. The sad truth dawns upon me, these flickers of emotions I feel for this mysterious boy, they are my last blind calls to be loved, to be wanted.

My face sinks in reaction to my sadness, the boy notices and steps closer as if to comfort me but I recoil. "I should be getting to bed, it is late and we have training tomorrow." I tell him before turning away to walk towards the light of the glass conservatory clutching my key-card like it is a lifeline.

"Hey Princess." he calls out.

I turn a little and peek at him. Great, now I had a nickname from a deadly tribute. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips were set into a grim line. He speaks in a voice no louder than a whisper, two words escaped through his full lips.

"Be careful."

XxX

It is passed midnight when I finally arrive to my district's floor. The entire residents were sleeping so I sneak in like a cat. At home in District 4 I had a reputation for sneaking in undetected, either that or Michael wasn't bothered enough to tell me off for it.

As I enter my bedroom, dim lights come on immediately without command. I kick off my shoes beside the bed and throwing the Capitol clothing to the side before climbing underneath the warm duvet simply in my underwear, it was a nice feeling, having the silk sheets glide over my bare skin like I to am made of such a beautiful material. The ceiling turned a dark blue as the lights are killed by my command of the light switch, beside me the beautiful scenery of District 4 had faded back to the Capitol night-life, lights flickered on and off but not in response to faulty power, must be some sort of party.

I can still feel the tingle of this breath of my face, electricity pelts through me but not in the way the electromagnetic forcefield on the roof had. The feel made me tingle most unnaturally, making me feel weak and almost like liquid. The boy without a name. No, I do not like him, this is the Hunger Games, stop it! I pull the duvet up over my head as if it will protect me from myself. How stupid of me too feel these things. _Stupid bitch! _A furiously irritated voice yells in my head, I am angry at myself and to know tomorrow and the next day I will have to watch him. Every muscle in his body tighten as he wields a weapon to kill, imagining the blood and the screams that bring him pleasure. I wonder if he'll enjoy watching me die?


	8. Chapter 8: First Training Session

Chapter Eight.

**First Training Session.**

My sleep is filled with disturbing dreams, but these flickers of images produced by my subconscious seem to bring me back to the gruesome reality. An alliance isn't about trust, it is about staying alive. Dawn is breaking through my window, misty air laces through the buildings of the Capitol. Slowly, I remove myself out of bed and into the shower, my foggy morning mind wasn't in the right place as I randomly pressed buttons which turns around a bites me in the ass and I end up hopping from foot to foot as the base of the shower fills with roaring hot water and the jets beside me assault me with ice cold water. Then suddenly I am covered by minty foam. Once I am dried, I adventure back into my bedroom completely naked, thankfully no Avox had entered whilst I was in the shower to receive a shock. Laid out on my bed was our training outfit, tight black trousers with a black tunic with burgundy and silver medium length-sleeves and leather boots. I brush my hair backwards away from my face and hold it in place with a black headband. This was the first time since the morning of the reaping that I resembled myself. No fancy make up, clothing or crowns. I am me, plain and simple me. On the sleeves and back of my tunic is the number 4 in a square allowing the other tributes in the training centre to know which district I are from.

Finnick hadn't given us an exact time to meet for breakfast and no one had come to collect me this morning, but as my stomach rumbles, I head down to the dinning room hoping there will be food. I'm not disappointed. While the table is empty, a long board off to the side has been laid with at least twenty dishes. A young male Avox stands to attention by the spread, and when I ask if I can serve myself, he nods silently. Avox's are traitors of the Capitol, their tongues are cut so they cannot speak and they're bound to serve the endless line of tributes in a silence. I feel somewhat sorry for them but then the question raises in my mind, why would they want to run away from here? The food is brilliant and the life style may be uncomfortable for the eyes but you are well looked after and always fed, clean and housed. But then I admire him for whatever he had done to deserve this life. The Avox is a reminder to every tribute he serves that there is always a flaw in the system and President Snow cannot contain or control all of us.

I load my china plate with as much as I could squeeze on: eggs, sausages, pancakes, bacon along with apple slices and pale pink grapefruit. Seated on the edge of the sofa facing the glass wall I watch the sun rise over the Capitol, natural beautiful lights shine over the sky contrasting the dark morning clouds perfectly. My second plate is filled with porridge coated in sugar and banana's, as I shovel my food into my mouth, my stomach fills to the point of where I feel incredibly sick but my body growls at me to eat more, so just to satisfy myself, I fill my last plate will still warm bread rolls and fill a cup with steaming hot chocolate.

Michael enters my mind, he will be harvesting a major hangover, laying in a Capitol bed forced to put on a smile for the camera's. Just two mornings ago I was at home. Can that be right? Yes, just two, home now sits completely alone and empty back in District 4. How does he really feel about this entire situation? Watching me and Garrett parade around as husband and wife of the sea, adding to the terror when he watches the reality of twenty-four tributes circled together, knowing only one can leave alive?

Finnick and Garrett come in and bid me good morning before filling their plates and taking seats next to me on the sofa. The Avox purses his lips as the table remains bare. I am not irritated by the fact Garrett is wearing the same uniform as me because I am sure each tribute wears something similar to there district partners. The boys eat in silence which I am incredibly thankful for because my body shakes horridly due to the over-active nerves that jitter around my body. I'm terribly nervous about training, there will be three days in which all the tributes practise together. On the last afternoon, each tribute will get a chance to perform in private in front of the Gamemakers.

The thought of being in the same room with the other tributes, especially the District 2 pair, makes me queasy and to add discomfort, I know that each tribute will be studying another, marking the weak ones and targeting the ones who pose threats, but the Careers will be studying for their pack, adding in members that are worthy. Perhaps Garrett will be asked, wouldn't surprise me, Finnick said the District 2 mentor wanted to think about an alliance between two and four, no specific names where given in the brief words between mentors.

Michael walks in wearing a fresh set of clothing, an ironed black shirt with dark blue trousers. His hair is pushed back away from his face, black circles highlight his fierce eyes but I do not believe that was intentional. He doesn't say good-morning or hello to me, his tribute or Finnick. He stakes around us to the dining area to pour himself a cup of black coffee, and then moves to sit on the footstool in front of the three of us. He studies us for a second sipping gently at the strong liquid.

"You look like the male tribute from District 12." Garrett says snidely with a evil smirk. Anger flickers through me, what an asshole! Granted, yes, the tribute pair from District 12 aren't in the best of shape but they have a harder life than us, in the poorest district these children have never had a decent meal in there life, they are underweight and frail with porcelain skin and sunken in features. I feel disgusted by his comment but I do not object, I remain silent.

"Do you want to take this one?" Finnick asks Michael who stares coldly at Garrett, his tribute, in response to his evilness before he nods and turns away to look at both of us.

Michael takes a large mouthful of the bitter liquid. "You both have decided to be coached separately. Garrett by me and Anastasia by Finnick, so we don't need to discuss that. I already know your strengths, Anastasia it is throwing knives, strength and being a brilliant swimmer. For Garrett it is throwing spears, strength also and running. Are either of you any good at trapping?" Michael asks,

I bit the inner surface of my cheek, "Unless you mean fishing, no." I reply. As Garrett nods along with my answer.

Michael sighs running his spare hand though his hand, "Well then, that is number one of your list. The idea of training is to learn the thing that you do not know how to do, for example, learn how to make a fire, to tie a decent knot, to swing a mace, to fire an arrow and so on. Do not reveal too much of your strengths in front of the other tributes." he tell us firmly. "Save that all for the private sessions."

"What about the Career's?" Garrett asks.

Finnick steps in, "Well, Anastasia has already sorted that out."

"Huh?" both Garrett and Michael ask.

I sigh heavily at the boys reaction as then Finnick realises I had not told Garrett about it. Betrayal is truly the first thing that flashes in my tribute partners eyes. I turn to face him but he shifts away awkwardly. Finnick stands up to sit the other side of me.

"Where you ever going to tell me?" Garrett hisses.

I grip the back of my neck forcefully. "You were asleep and you already seemed angry at me because of the almost fight, I didn't think you would want to talk to me."

Garrett laughs sickly, "I would have forgiven you completely if you had just told me about the offer, this is the Careers! Protection until the others are dead, every tribute wants this opportunity and what, you were going to keep it to yourself!" he bellows.

It was my turn to chuckle, "I don't want protection from the Careers. You can have it if it means that much to you. Were you afraid that they didn't want you?" I tease evilly.

"Anastasia!" Michael and Finnick growl but I am already on my feet and walking away but I only end up seating myself with a huff at the dinner table. Garrett is the one who storms off to his room like a teenage girl.

Personally, I do not see how I am the villain in this situation. Garrett was asleep and I was otherwise preoccupied. He hadn't of stalked off after dinner then maybe Finnick would have us both but no. He went off sulking like a child to his bedroom before maybe I had embarrassed him but why should that matter now? I got us an entry into the Career Pack, shouldn't he be grateful?

At quarter to ten, I am stood in the small porch area between the elevator and our living quarter's front door. Dieter joins me at ten to ten expecting to be the first on there. He greets me with a happy good-morning, today he wears a deep blue shirt with silver jems sewn on from his right shoulder across to underneath his ribs on his left side, over top he wears a long silver blazer made of silk and his pants are incredibly tight to the point where they outline the edges of his manhood and once I had noticed, it was very difficult for it not to fall into my eye line. Thankfully Garrett walks in but the mood doesn't lighten, Dieter says good-morning and Garrett growls at him. My anger for my district partner has been temporarily blocked out by my nervousness about meeting the other tributes. But as my thoughts drift to the male District 2 tribute and his bitchy fucking partner, Iris, I can feel anxiety rising in my chest again. Dieter presses the floor for the Training Centre and the elevator begins to lowers quickly.

The actual training centre is below the ground level of our building and with these quick moving elevators the ride is over in less than half a minute. The glass doors open into an enormous gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Because it is not ten yet we are one of five districts in the gymnasium. As I look around at the other tributes I recognise the girl from District 10 who stands shifty with a boy who must be her district partner. The tributes from District 12 stand the furthest away from us, their boy tribute this year is thirteen-years-old, still a child. District's 1 and 2 are huddled in a circle talking aimlessly amongst themselves, the boy from two catches my eye but I ignore him as we merge into faint semi-circle forming in front of a small risen circle in the middle of the gymnasium. As the clock in the gymnasium strikes ten, the other seven districts joined us. Thankfully every other district pair are dressed in outfits identical to us, the only difference are the numbers on our sleeves and back.

As we all merge into one strong line, a tall, athletic woman named Atala, steps up onto the risen circle of floor and begins to explain the training schedule. Experts in each skill will remain by their stations, so we are free to travel between stations as we choose, but considering Michael's instructions, we are to steer clear of stations we are good at, so knife throwing for me and spear throwing for Garrett, who by the looks of things, is going to abandon me as soon as Atala says training begins. We are forbidden to engage in any combative exercises with another tribute as there are assistant on hand if we want to practise with a partner but unlike the tribute parade, it is certainly not unheard of for tributes to talk and help each other as now is the time to think of making alliances.

As Atala reads down the list of stations, both skill and survival, my eyes cannot help but flicker over the other tributes. It is the first time we have been assembled together without costumes in simple clothing. My heart sinks as almost all of them are taller than I am but at five-foot-four is that really so difficult? But despite being height challenged, I am strong and bulky, surviving my brother, father and fishing crew has built me up as they enjoy nothing more than a scrap and I am not afraid to throw a few punches if necessary but the Career tributes have four years plus fighting experience on me. When Atala releases us, the Careers, living up to their expectations, they head straight for the deadliest-looking weapons in the gym and handle them with ease. Iris goes over to the throwing knife station, her district partner grips a short bladed sword. The District 1 girl picks up a bow and arrow, she is a lousy shot and the boy goes straight into hand-to-hand combat training. The Career tributes are clearly trying to intimidate the rest of the tributes as they brilliantly wield weapons the obviously know how to use as the other tributes try their first lessons throwing knives or using an axe.

I nudge Garrett's arm making him jump slightly as his eyes were glued on the Careers, but as I move to look in within his eye line, I learn that Garrett is full staring competition with the District 2's male tribute. Trouble filled my nose, the boys eyes flicker from Garrett's to mine and softens slightly. "Come on, let's see if we can tie a knot." I say dragging him lightly on the arm, luckily his eyes remove from the Career and we move over to the empty station. The trainer can tell we are at a disadvantage being from District 4 as the only thing we know are fishing nets, granted I am aware how to tie a simple knot but the trainer teaches us how to tie a Reef Knot which is simple to remember and good to use. The trainer seems very happy to have students and so he shows us a excellent trap that will leave a human competitor dangling by a leg from a tree. Garrett begins gets bored with this station easily but I don't mind it, after fifteen minutes he asks my permission to go off without me. I say yes slightly confused as to why he had asked me, so I spent the next forty-five minutes concentrating on this station talking to the trainer who shows me several more knots and clever traps. Once the station had no more to offer me, I left the station thanking the trainer. I skipped out the camouflage station as I see now reason for learning to camouflage myself when I and the trainers are unaware what environment the Arena is going to be. Plus, I do not see how difficult it can be to hid myself.

Instead, I walk around the gymnasium, my eyes fall upon the District 2 male, his eyes burn holes into my face, he smiles seductively whilst raising his eyebrows, he twiddles the spear in his hand before turning around to face his target – a dummy handing from the ceiling – before throwing it, the tip of the blade pierces the dummy's stomach, the force takes the dummy from its hanging position to pin it on the wall behind it. My stomach jumps to my throat as a nervous fear grips me, the trainer congratulates the tribute but the boy has turned to look at me with a smug expression. I swallow my fear not allowing it to show on my face as I turn on the heels of my leather boots trying to show no intention and wander over to the knife throwing station. A girl is already there, it isn't Iris, despite the large _10_ on her back, I can also tell it isn't Iris because this girl sometimes hits the target and sometimes the blade is rejected by the board knocking it away.

I study the girl like a patient as she grips the knife by the handle, and throws. The knife hits the target handle first inside of blade suggesting the girl is unaware of the difference between handle-heavy and blade-heavy knifes. A loud bitchy, female laugh echoes from behind me, we both turn to see Iris laughing hysterically. The girl from District 10 lowers the knife and begins to walk off.

"Hey – wait!" I tell her quickly dashing forward with my hand stretched out, not to touch her. The girl looks shocked but she does wait to look at me. "If you would like, I can show you how to throw one of these?" I say gesturing to the blade-heavy knife I was now holding in my hand.

The girl looks uneasy but she nods happily, "Yes, please." I smile as she comes to stand next to me on the throwing platform. I pick up a blade-heavy knife and hold one in each hand and displayed them to her, she looks confused.

"There are two types of blades. Blade-heavy and handle-heavy." I tell her, she nods. "This one –" I raise my right hand holding the handle-heavy knife, "This knife is handle-heavy, meaning when you throw it, you will need to hold the blade because it is lightest so you get more rotation." the girl nods, I then hold up my left hand, "This knife is blade-heavy, so you will need to throw it by the..."

"Handle." the girl says. I nod with a smile.

I pick up another eight knives handing her five. "Ready to have a go?" I ask. District 10 nods before stepping forward to the fresh target which resembles a human being, hands to its side with a kill zones dotted across, red marks immediate kills or major areas to hit, blue represents minor areas and white is large portion of the target and these sections represent the areas were being hit my a blade isn't going to do much damage and the yellow that surrounds the target, of course means you've missed. She takes her time to study the blade in her hand to see if it is blade or handle heavy and then she throws. Three out of five of her knives hit the human target in blue sections and the other two hit the yellow scoring no points. One of her three blades hits the target in the shoulder, the other of her three blades hits the lower stomach above the left hip bone and the last knife hits the target in the lower legs. Non are fatal wounds but the victim would bleed out in a matter of hours or maybe days if they had not gotten treatment before hand.

"Well done." I tell her pattering her back before handing her my set of five, "Try again, make sure to aim first."

The girl nods and takes the blades, from the corner of my eyes I notice Iris and the other Careers watching with amusement as the girl bends under pressure and throws the blades in a somewhat lousy manor, the blades hit the legs and white. From behind me I see the Careers begin to snigger, the girl looks at me with sadness in her eyes and anger floods me. I scoop us the last five blades on the rack and tell the girl to step aside, she obeys without question. Before I throw, my head snaps to give Iris a glare sharper than the knives I hold in my hand before turning back to the fresh target board, my vision is soaked red, the Careers are still watching, of course, they wouldn't want to miss out on seeing another maybe-Careers strengths. It is almost like an audition.

I twirl the blade in my right hand before deciding with side his heaviest. The first is blade-heavy, I grip the handle tightly before quickly aiming and throwing. _Blue, _stomach area above the liver. The second blade is, again, blade-heavy so I grip the handle tightly before throwing. _Red_, upper thigh. The next knife I load into my throwing hand is handle-heavy, I grip the blade gently before throwing, _white, _right shoulder. A snigger echoes from behind me but I ignore the impulse to throw the knife in Iris face. The next knife is also blade-heavy, I growl lowly before throwing it, _yellow, _fucking knife wobbled on release making it curve. The snigger became loud laughter and I hadn't realised that a small group, including Garrett had formed around us. I took the last blade and said a little prayer.

"Don't miss, Four." the smug voice of Iris calls from the back of the small gathering. For some reason, my eyes turn to the District 10 girl who gives me a reassuring smile. I swallow the tension, breathing deeply before aiming, the next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion, the knife leaves my hand and travels straight, the knife hits the board at a fast speed breaking the material. The blade at fallen into a red zone, but not any red zone, this red zone covered the section of the upper chest where the heart would be.

I turned to look at Iris who smiles in a congratulating manor before moving along with the District 1 female. The other half of District 1 and 2 stand to study me a bit more, the District 1 boy whispers something to District 2 which makes the One's face drop before turning to snap at the other boy defensively before walking off.

The District 10 girl is waiting for me off the throwing platform. Her fiery red hair is pulled back into a silk ponytail revealing incredibly sharp features and defined almond shaped eyes. This girl was the spitting image of what I think Leila's daughter would have looked like if she had one. Strangely beautiful but also a little klutzy – all right, a lot klutzy, but as I go to walk passed her, the girl touches my arm without flinching, to halt me.

"In return for the throwing lessons, I can show you some medical treatments?" the girl suggests with a nervous smile. A strange fuzzy warmth floods through my body as I try to suppress a true glee filled grin, I nod with a small smile lining my lips.

Like the some of the other survival stations, the medical information area is vacant apart from the female tribute from District 12 and 5 but they move along quickly after Ten and I arrive. Garrett was angry but also a flicker of happiness came over his features as the Careers approached him, all with gleaming smiles on their faces. Seems he was getting what he wanted after all, a place in the Career Pack. The girl from District 10 was setting up two types of flower and a strip of bark on a small white table surface underneath a bright light, once she has arranged them according to her taste, the girl beckons me over to stand beside her.

Ten picks up a small white flower with thin leaves and a bright yellow center, "This is Blood Root, and the flowers medical perk is actually in the name. Blood. If you ingest this as a tea it is very effect in cleansing the blood and lowering fever." I nod showing I understand and she moves onto the next flower.

The second flower is on a single stem but the top branches off into lots of tiny bright orange flowers. "This is Butterfly Weed: Direct application to the skin in the form of a poultice can help to reduce swelling or heal wounds."

I raise an eyebrow, "Poultice?" I ask feeling rather stupid, but Ten smiles like she understands my confusion.

"A moist amount." she tells me, "In simple terms, put it your mouth until its moist and looks like a soggy sandwich before putting straight onto a wound."

I break into giggles and so does Ten. "And last?" I ask pointing to the brown strip of bark.

"This is Cherry Tree bark." Ten says, "It helps reduce fever and usually you would boil it into a stew but in the arena I don't think any tribute will have that sort of time, so you will just have to chew it." I scrunch my face up at the thought of eating bark but if it is the choice between life and death, the eating of bark doesn't sound too bad. "You got all that Four?" she asks.

"Anastasia." the word falls from my lips before I can stop it. The girl beside me looks a little shocked but doesn't hold back.

"Cassandra." she says sweetly.

I lick the inner-rim of my lip, "This might be a long shot but you don't happen to already have an alliance going with another tribute do you?"

Cassandra chuckles before shaking her head, "Tributes aren't exactly lining up too make an alliance with the klutz of this years tributes."

"Do you want to make an alliance with me?" I ask, my voice no more than a whisper. Cassandra's mouth formed into a grin before she nods and I smile back to her.

"You really want me as an ally?" she asks, almost bewildered by my asking.

I chuckle slightly, "Yes."

She turns to face me square on holding out her hand. "Ally?" she asks.

I take her hand gently and shake it. "Ally."

First ally: Cassandra Potter, District 10.

The bell signalling the end of days training session sounds and we are all put into our pairs in number order to catch our elevators back to our floors. I find Garrett amongst the Careers who split off into two groups once they see me approach them. The boy from District 2 brushes passed me, our shoulders knocking, his large hands slip something crumbly into my hand, I freeze.

Garrett questions my frozen state but I simply tell him I am tried which is rather a lie considering I haven't done anything major in today's training lesson. Of course I wouldn't tell him about the note that was slipped into my hand by a Career my body seems to be developing childish feelings for at a rapid rate. The elevator ride up measures out to be the same as the ride down. Once in our floor, Dieter orders us to take quick showers and change into more comfortable clothing for dinner to discuss how our first training session went. My stomach is doing back slips as I brush passed Garrett and fly down the corridor to enter my bedroom and bolt the door before removing the paper, slightly moist with sweat which had formed on the surface of my palm and also crunched into a ball due to my tight fist.

The note read in hideous masculine handwriting;

_Meet me in our place at eleven._

– _C_

******A/N: please review! But also remember to favourite and follow if you are enjoying.**


	9. Chapter 9: Being Protective Of Things

Chapter Nine.

**"I Am _Very_ Protective Of The Things I Like."**

I finally manage to figure out how to use the shower and I spend close to half an hour just stood under the soothing warm water as the sponges gently massage my back and head as strawberry soap is rubbed into a thick lather. Once rinsed, my body is blown dry and my hair is shocked straight. I picked out some clothes to wear for dinner, a black button up shirt made from velvet with a studded collar and cuffs with nude loose fitting trousers. I slip on my black, strapless shoes I had saved from the reaping – I had left my sisters dress on the bed of the train – and head to the living area.

Glancing at the clock, it is not yet six but I appear to be late, everyone is sat up the dinner table with empty plates before them but all seem to be enjoying a glass of pink liquid. I sit next to Michael, opposite Finnick who is sat next to Garrett, for some reason I feel the seating arrangements should be the other way around for Garrett and myself but I do not mind, it is a change to sit so close to my brother. Dinner is severed in courses by the same Avox servers from yesterday.

"How did training go?" Finnick question in the gap between us finishing our first course and the second course being placed in front of us. Garrett and I have already dug in our second set of food but Garrett swallows his food before I manage too and answer for himself with a gleaming smile.

"Cato offered my a place in the Career Pack." he says with oozing self-pride. _Who is Cato? _Michael and Finnick – who slaps him on the back – smile and congratulate him, before I can ask who Cato is, Finnick points his fork at me, for some reason I think he is going to throw it and I flinch slightly, nudging Michael who snaps at me.

"You Missy," Finnick says before removing the fork from pointing at me. "Need to give those Careers your answer, they will not wait until the Games."

"Actually – "

Garrett sucks in a deep breath, a gasp if will, before interrupting me. "We can tell them tomorrow, together."

"Well, I – "

Garrett puts down his cutlery, well throws would be a better description, "It's going to be great! Imagine it, the best six tributes of the years Hunger Games, form the Career Pack!" Garrett explodes at the dinner table in a fine impersonation of Caesar Flickerman.

I take a deep breath, "You're going to just have to imagine it."

"What?" Michael says from beside me.

Forcing my head not to turn to meet my brothers cold gaze, I gently put down my knife and fork. "I'm sorry but I wont be joining the Career Pack. I have already formed an alliance."

"With who?" Finnick asks.

Turning to meet my mentor dead in the eyes, my heart leaps to my throat. "The District 10 female tribute, Cassandra."

Garrett let out a cruel and sickening laugh. "That two-left feet idiot is your ally? Seriously?"

"Better than four hypoactive cut throats." I hiss angrily.

"At least my allies can keep my protected." Garrett argues.

I grin with a scoff, "Well, my ally can keep me from dying. I would love too see you last a day after they leave you to die, of course that means if they don't kill you before that. At least I made a trade for her knowledge." I say, but I knew as soon as I had said it, I had given ammo to Garrett to use against me.

He turns to my mentor, evilness glowing in his eyes. "Miss Princess, over there, threw knives in front of the Careers today, all because District 2's female laughed at her precious little ally."

My limps strain as I fight the urge to leap over the table and wrap my small hands around his neck, Michael takes an incredibly sharp in take of air. "You did what?"

"Calm down..." the steady voice of Finnick hushes the angered mentor beside me, but only for a second.

"Excuse me!?" Michael yells at his old mentor.

Finnick leans forward, he is the ultimate authority here, Dieter is silent at the head of the table taking in the actions of his tributes. "Her throwing knives simply makes the Careers want her more, an that's a good thing before even when she refuses them, they will still want her and in the Arena, if her ally is killed in the bloodbath, the Careers are twice as likely to take her in still."

Did he just defend me? I had to admit there was logic to Finnick's words, ten years ago a similar thing happened to one of the District 12 tributes, Peeta Mellark, despite not entering the Careers during the training sessions, he managed to join him after the bloodbath had ended and he proved he wasn't a coward by killing several people, the Careers found a spot amongst their makeshift ranks but he was blind to the fact they were using him to find his 'star-crossed lover' Katniss Everdeen, the leader of the Careers that year cut him pretty high on the inner thigh once he helped her escape them and left him to die. Despite being only six-years-old during their game, I found it exhilarating when the Gamemakers announced if two tributes from the same District remained live, they would allow two victors. A lie many tributes fell for, but sadly only District 2 and 12 had their tribute partners alive, during a special dinner, the female was filled from District 2 leaving only Katniss and Peeta as the only tributes from the same district alive. Only problem is they had one tribute in there way and the deal was that both Katniss and Peeta had to be the last ones alive. Anyway, blah blah missing out the gruesome details, the male from District 2 is killed and the star-cross lovers live, but as the sky relights, the Gamemakers retract the previous rule so only one can go home. Katniss kisses her love, eats poisonous berries and dies. Peeta is crowned Victor and is currently in the same building couching District 12's current tributes.

Unfortunately, Finnick's words had the opposite effect on me. My heart hiccuped at the through of Cassandra dying in the bloodbath at the beginning of the Games, this only filled me with determination to protect her, not that I feel she will be totally helpless in a fight but I do worry slightly. Not because I feel anything overly special towards her, she just reminds me of Leila. Cassandra seems harmless enough but that is what makes me suspicious of her, acting frightened and appearing weak worked very well for a girl, Johanna Mason from District 7, thirteen years back. She seems like such a snivelling fool apparently, I am too young to remember Johanna's game, but from what I have heard from my brother, non of the other tributes bothered with her until there was only a handful of contestants left and she turned out to be quite the vicious killer. Pretty clever and something I wish I had of thought of before.

Garrett's face blew up with anger, "You're still going to defend her?" he bellowed at Finnick who sat there looking at Michael, who stared at his tribute, who stared at me. A vicious circle of tributes head-to-head and the mentors patching up the mess. I couldn't understand why Garrett recoiled me so much for making an ally because it wasn't even like he wanted to be my ally in the first place.

"I don't understand why you are so upset." I growl standing up, Garrett sinks back into his seat, "Haven't you got what you wanted? A place in the Career Pack, protection and whatever else they can give you, so why are you so against me having an alliance with another tribute? Why are you so angry at me because I decided against the Careers?"

Garrett stinks deeper, "Because, in that Arena, you're going to be the only piece I have home."

Automatically I sunk into my seat. That hurt, worse than any cut and impaled me deeper than any scar or weapon in the arena will. I was Garrett's only piece of home in the Arena, and that was true vice versa. Dieter tried to lighten the situation with smiling jokes and apparently good news that the Capitol had caught on to mine and Garrett's show of Amphitrite and Poseidon during the Tribute Parade. The image of the Capitol people changing their vibrant clothing for simple Greek styles makes me feel slightly more at ease but the truth of the matter is, I can never like these people. They're betting on if I live in that Arena or die for their entertainment.

The five of us sit in silence, Finnick seems unfazed by the outburst and continurs to eat happily. The overwhelming tension mixed with the silent anger in the atmosphere remains me of the reaping, as a innocent child's name is drawn, the odds not in the favour of some, you could hear a pin drop and feel the heat of the hatred as parents and siblings prepare to say goodbye to their loved ones. Garrett doesn't stay for dessert, in fact he leaves a little after the argument turns to dust, the echoing slam of his door snaps the hunger from my body.

"I'm not hungry anymore." I tell my mentor, brother and escort. An Avox removes my plate from in front of me and walks off with the plate in a tormenting silence. I do not wait for permission to leave the table so I stand up and walk to my bedroom, my knees wobbly beneath me as I wander down the small corridor.

"Are you sure those two aren't secretly together!" Dieter mutters not so silently. "It seems they go out of their way to make an argument." my escort continues to ramble on. I could feel their eyes turn to study me but Finnick mumbles a no but it isn't filled with confidence, it is the first time I have heard his voice being unsure.

Inside my bedroom I find a male Avox cleaning up, I tell him to leave everything alone but he doesn't listen so I ignore him as I slump down on my bed staring up at the ceiling. After a little while of staring up at the boring ceiling dotted with lights, I turn to the large window to my left with a curiosity to see what else the Capitol will allow me to do, I ask the screen if I can see District 4's reaping video, a circle of dots appear on the middle of the screen, one dot lit up followed by another as the previous dot darkens until the crystal blue sky of District 4 lights the sky as the children aged twelve to eighteen-years-old are bottlenecked into the square, the screen is then spilt into four sections, each section controlled by a different camera which scans the same patch of crowd from different angles. Dieter Rollo takes the stage, the camera's get him from the front, sides and one gets an higher images, suggesting the camera was one of the twenty on the rooftops. Soon enough, Garrett Larkin is called, all the camera turn to him, all different angles allowing no emotion to be uncaptured, but he remains steel faced, free from emotion. Then, I am called, all the camera's are then positioned on me who freezes for a split-second, a small fragment of shock flashes across my eyes but then is quickly concealed by the firm grip Leila gives my hand snapping me back into reality. I walk through the crowd and arise onto the stage without a problem, my face steel like Garrett's, one camera breaks it's glare from me to capture my brother having to be restrained slightly by Finnick Odair and Mayor Osbourne.

I tell the window to fast forward to the tributes being taken to the train, the window obeys and I am next blessed by the image of Garrett and I walking, more like pushing, our way through the jungle of camera's and reporters. Our faces seem rudely not bothered by the events that had snatched our lives an hour before. I am proud of that but I am sure the Capitol may be slightly insulted but I couldn't give two shits, they will have their show in the arena, that I can promise, just as long as I get my hands on that bitch Iris from District 2, it will be worth watching.

The Gods must hate me, because on shuffle that is the next reaping video that appears on my screen. Iris Castillo is called, she grins with a fearless smirk. Therefore, no one volunteers also because in her district being reaped is a huge honour, a chance to represent your home in the Games. Anyway, a boy is reaped whose name is Tate Matthews, but before he can move to get onto the stage, another boy lunges through the crowd to volunteer to take the boys place. Once on the stage, Iris and his escort Virgo Troutman asks for the boys name before positioning the microphone in front of the boy who has to lean down to reach the mouthpiece – if that was me I would have had to tiptoe – and clearly says his name. Cato Ludwig. My stomach turns, District 2 male tribute, my stupid feels had attached themselves to a boy named Cato. How stupid. Once asked if he knew the previous boy, Cato shakes his head. This boy from District 2, had only volunteered to kill and win, it was his last chance to be entered into the Games.

The Tribute Parade was the next thing I was curious to watch, multiple camera's were set aside to capture the parade as this years sacrifices were showed off through the streets with smiling faces and waving hands. Several camera's manage to capture Garrett catching and handing me the flower and me sniffing it like a shy little school girl who had never been given a flower, there is truth in that. Cato, Iris and the District 1 pair look strong and fearless throughout the parade, this draws the Capitol's attention to them, one of them was to be the victor for sure. But not Iris, if a tribute is to plan to kill another tribute, Iris Castillo was my target and I have a gut feeling I may be hers.

Shutting off the window allowing it to return to his normal job of providing a gateway to the city streets of the Capitol. I lay down, the Avox has yet to leave but I am not bothered at all by his presence. He was young, maybe early twenties, with electric blue hair with brown roots suggesting his natural colour to be dirt brown and grey eyes, Katniss Everdeen had rather spectacular grey eyes, I remember them well through the dark make up her stylist Cinna said to wear, they shined like torches in the dark night. Memorable, probably why she got so many sponsors. Her district partner Peeta Mellark got sponsors by the love he admitted for Katniss beforehand.

The Avox goes to take the folded up note from my bedside table, without thinking I had flipped over and gripped his wrist pausing the Avox in his frozen state. Only the look in his eyes show how scared he was about my actions, I am not surprised, Avox must be the people in the most fear and the most dangerous job. Avox's are constantly on the same level as the tributes. Scared children. Avox's are mute so in the event of an attack, they cannot scream, yell or call for help.

"That's not rubbish." I mumble letting go, "I'm sorry."

The Avox nods before leaving quickly, I cannot blame him, poor guy. I wouldn't wish the life of an Avox on anyone, not even Iris. But what did this man do? He looks far too young with fifty years ahead of him with this life. I doubt the man would tell me, not that he could verbally speak it to me, would he write and tell me or is it really that bad?

I flick my eyes from the clock beside me to the note now unfolded in my hands. _8:15 pm. _I sigh heavily, a lot of time to fill up, so I spend it walking around my bedroom eating freshly cooked rolls and chicken legs which had been marinaded in sweet chilli sauce. I re-looked over Cassandra's reaping video from District 10 before realising we had a brother-sister tribute pair from District 7 in this years games. Alden and Jacqueline Calevi, however suspiciously non of them are volunteers meaning once his sister was called, Alden didn't volunteer to protect her.

I watched the clock's hands flicker away my life slowly, and once the clock had struck nine o'clock, I set an alarm to wake my at ten-to-eleven before curling up on top of the covers and falling into a rich slumber.

XxX

_My heart races inside my chest as I run frantically through the thick undergrowth. Adrenaline filled yells and laughs follow me swiftly as the Career Pack follow behind me like a tigers chasing after a deer, sooner or later the deer will give in to the exausting speed. But I cannot stop, my feet thump the ground, I have been stripped of my backpack and weapons apart from a small throwing knife that has embedded itself in back of my left shoulder. A lucky throw by Iris. Warm blood trickled down my back making me uncomfortable but what is the point in giving in now. There is only three left. Me, Iris and Cato. Garrett is dead, killed by the District 1 female, I killed her slowly in return, her blood still stains my hands. The harsh evening air whips my face teaming up with the thin branches hidden by the night that slap against my face like my mothers angry hands. Some cut and others just continued to sting. A pain filled shreik releases itself from my lungs as a deep pain erupts from my back knocking me to the floor. Iris' happy voice chuckles something that is muffled to me, my heart beats in my ears as I scrabble throught the dirt. The Career Pack's footsteps close on me and before long, the blades are pulled swiftly from my back allowing me to sit up against a free trunk and I am face-to-face with a blood covered Iris and Cato. No fear. No fear. I look up at Iris with the same look I forced myself to appear as during the reaping and to the train stations. Bored and waiting, but Iris simply smiles at me, that evil bitchy smile that makes me want to lunge forward and strangle her, but I cannot, blood pours from my various open wounds. Iris opens her jacket to show off a beautiful collection of knives. The knives intended for me. And selects one before studying it carefully. Cato's eyes do not flicker from me and Iris hands him the razor sharp knife, he takes it idly moving it about in his hands checking for the heavy side. Plea fills my eyes but he smiles sickly like Iris, I mumble a please but I doubt he can hear me. The Capitol sit on the edge of their seats as the Gamemakers ready another cannon. My cannon. Cato rasies the knife as the corners of my vision go black, then he pulls back his arm readying the throw, the knife leaves his hands and penetrates my chest..._

"Anastasia!" a masculine voice calls urgently, my eyelids fly open to stare straight into the light blue mixed with unusal green eyes of Finnick Odair. My breathing is ecstatic like I had literally been running for my life as my mentor grips me with his large golden hands. "It was only a dream." he cooes gently pulling me into his chest. I do not fight against him, instead I invite his bodyily contact. He pulls me onto his lap to cradle me as if I am a toddler. His large arms wrap around me to keep me safe from my dreams, from myself as he hushes me silent. I dry my eyes with the sleeve of my black velvet shirt and wiggle slightly out of Finnick's grip so we aren't so close as Annie flashes through my mind.

"I am okay," I assure my worried mentor, "It was only a bad dream about the Games."

Finnick shakes his head sadly at me, "Wasn't a bad dream, wait until you win, then you'll understand what a real nightmare is."

The nightmares never leave you after the Games, anyone with half a working brain could see the victors are effected by the things they have done, killed the innocent, friends maybe whilst having the feeling of home slip away from you. Finnick then holds out a piece of crumpled paper in my eye line snagged tightly between his thumb and index finger. I automatically recognise it as Cato's note, studying my reaction Finnick raises a suspicious eyebrow at me.

"Do you wanna tell me what this is about?" Finnick asks. I sigh heavily, ashamed of how sloppy I was, "Or should I go to the roof and ask him myself?" my mentor threatens.

I bit my lip, hard enough to pierce the skin and blood begins to flow, Oh shit, oh shit._ Lie, _a voice hisses inside my head as I simply stare at my mentor with a mixture of petrified and awkwardness filled eyes, _do something!_

"Did you love Annie right away, Finnick?" I ask.

"No," A long time passes before he adds "She crept up on me."

A small grin creeps across my face, "Then please, excuse me if I do not give a shit about say at this moment, for it appears you have no real idea of how I feel. I do not love him, but something is bubbling inside me and I cannot seem to ignore it. I am sorry but despite what you might think, these idiotic feelings will not get in my way during the Games."

Finnick's tiny grin as grown into a blossoming smile. "You're a very good, but you don't need to hide anything from me. When Annie went into her games I was already feeling for her and she for I. When you like someone, you cannot magically unlike them. It is a force out of everyones control."

"I'm sorry." I mumble but truly I am not sure of what I am surpose to be apologising for.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, in a almost surprised voice. "Fraternizing with the enermy?" he winks at me.

A small smile plays on my mouth, "Finnick, I haven't –"

My mentor raises a hand to silence me, "If you hadn't noticed yet, everyone is your enermy, even Garrett and your ally because they will only bend so much before they snap. And when it comes down to the final two, it doesn't matter if it is you and Cato, or you and Cassandra or Garrett. One will leave because it is human nature to fight for survival."

Completely true. I knew it then. Fight to live or die fighting.

"This isn't any of my buisness, but can I give you a small piece of mentory advice?" Finnick asks, I nod eagerly, he chuckles lightly before handing me back the note from Cato, "Hurry up or you'll be late." he says calmly.

At first I was so caught up in what I was thinking, my mind fizzed on what he was talking about, Finnick grips my chin gently before angeling my face towards the clock that read, _10:59 pm, _across the screen in floresent orange number.

"Oh shit!" I hiss standing up, hiding the note in my pocket and picking up my silver key-card before planting a light kiss on Finnick's waiting lips before dashing out the door, only to return several seconds later, "Thank you Finnick." I say with a grin.

He laughs, "No problem Princess. Now go, get your last piece of happiness before your world turns to shit."

I laugh in good humour before racing out of the floor, no one was luckily in the living area, all probably sleeping. The clicking of locks sound behind me as the front door to District 4's mentors, escorts, tributes along with their prep-teams closes behind me. The elevator seems to be waiting for me as the glass doors open for me, inviting me to step in, they too close behind me as I press the button for the roof because if it was the top floor I would have ended up at District 12's living quarters.

As the night sky comes into view, through the several sheets of glass it is easy to see the shining stars, my heart accelerates inside my chest. A ping erupts in the night air as the glass doors of the elevator allow me to escape the container and enter into the glass conservatory, the same flowers are placed in neat rows against the glass walls, the Panem sign on the window remained perfect on the panes of glass beside the electric sliding doors. The moon captures my attention immediately as it gently rests on the tall mountains surrounding the Capitol. I step into the fresh yet freezing Capitol air, I was now wishing I had worn something thicker or brought a coat.

The lampposts are shining in the darkness and the gardens are empty. Dread heavies my stomach, I check the clock inside the conservatory above the elevator, the clock reads, 11:02, maybe Cato changed his mind and decided not to meet me. Forcing my fears aside I step forward onto the stone pathway between the gardens, checking from the entrance gates, I could see I was alone, sadness grips me and I turn on my heels before walking with a sense of anger back towards the conservatory doors.

Suddenly, a hand clamps over my mouth and a arm wraps around my stomach from behind, panic sets in as the figure drags me back towards the gardens, I swung my elbows back to hit the person who had grabbed me. Maybe it was Iris coming to finish me off before the Games started, but the build of this person was far too big. I kick my legs but I see no point as I cannot actually kick my grabber considering they were behind me. I relax my body as I am prepared to do something I haven't done in years, I grip my attackers arm, push my hips backwards bend my knees and swiftly remove my attacker from the ground before twisting removing them from on top of me, my attacker falls to the floor with a thud, I quickly step away looking over my attacker but the person in a heap on the ground kicks my ankle backwards removing my foot from beneath me keeping myself balanced. With a yelp I fall forwards actually onto my attacker, who then begins to laugh.

"Shit Princess." the person begins to chuckle, as I remove myself from on top of them – him. From his nickname I automatically assume the boy beneath me is Cato, so I make a extra effort to elbow him in the chest before returning to my standing opposition.

"Are you okay?" I ask holding out my hand to help him to my feet but he uses my hands for something else, to simply pull me back onto the ground with him. "You know the idea of giving someone a hand is to get up, not pull them back down." I say.

Cato chuckles before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his lap as we now maintain a sitting up position on the cold, and no doubt wet grass in the only garden section that doesn't contain a bench. "It's warmer down here." he mumbles in my ear. "I very much enjoyed your knives throwing demonstration today in training." he chuckles.

I turn to face him slightly with a faint smile, "Really...Cato?" I whisper his name.

Cato's face dropped slightly at the mention of his own name, he turns from me slightly, "How do you know my name?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow, "It wasn't like you could keep it from me forever. And before you panic, something you should know, district partners talk, that's how I know your name." I say bluntly before turning away from him like he did me.

Cato's slender hand gently glides across the left side of my face causing my to recoil from him as the touch his unfamiliar to me, "Don't be sour, Anastasia." he whispers with a smug little smile.

A chuckle of real humour releases itself from my lungs. "You're an asshole." I mumble. Cato chuckles, then I wonder that made him snap at District 1 earlier today. I turn to look at him, not realising how close we are as the tips of our noses graze gently sending an electric shock down me body. "What did the boy from District 1 say to you earlier after you and the Careers watched me throw? You looked really annoyed."

Cato licked the surface of his bottom lip, "He said, 'the girl can throw so when we kill her make sure she hasn't got any knives.'"

I raise my eyebrows as his eyes stay locked with mine. "And that upset you because?"

"I am _very_ protective of the things I like." he mumbles to me. My heart beats irregularly inside my chest as he leans in a little closer, our lips just centimetres apart.

"You're protective of knife throwing?" I say trying to bring a little humour to the tense situation but Cato doesn't find my joke humorous and I feel slightly above stupid. Cato gripped my throat tightly with his tight hand and uses his left to secure my head in place, my fragile neck rests in the balance of his strong hands, knowing he could snap my neck in a heart beat is terrifying but I should trust him, right, I mean I willingly met him here. My hands rest on the soft skin of the fingers around my neck and his coated shoulder.

"I am protective of you!" he hisses somewhat angrily.

My heart skips several beats, "These feelings are stupid." I hiss back, Cato's hand pull my neck forward dragging my upper body along with it, making me whimper in fear.

"Maybe that is why we should trust it?" he then whispers to me, his hands loosen around my neck and slip up to cradle my face gently inside his oversized palms. He is slow, taking his time not to rush because I guess with a clock counting down our lives, it wouldn't hurt to change the pace, forcing us to grow up too quickly is breaking us, splitting the seams. Our noses brush first as he turned his head to brush down the side, our lips linger in front of each other for a second as Cato's ice blue eyes glazed into mine before looking down, my lids flutter closed as the first kiss barley grazes my lips, then the second came.

His kisses were soft, I didn't expect that from him, I thought his kisses would be rough and hard, I thought he would kiss me like his life depended on it, but he didn't. Instead he kissed me like I was a porcelain doll, it was cute but slightly insulting. As he pulls me into his lap tightly wrapping his arms around me keeping me closed in, my heart is beating like the tacky baseline to one of District 3's faulty computers, my breaths were staggered as Cato held me, but gently I begin to pull away.

"There's no need to rush into anything now." I whisper, my hands hold either side of his face as I stare deep into his eyes. Cato sighs with a hit of aggravation, but then nods in agreement. I peck his lips gently before giving in and leaving into his chest because now the stars weren't the best thing I will remember.

We sit there in silence for maybe an hour, his gentle breaths tickled my neck as he large arms kept me close. My eyes were locked onto the sky. "Look!" I gush as a shooting star splits the sky in half, Cato removed his head from the nape of my neck as it whizzes across the Capitol. I could feel him grinning against my neck, then suddenly another beam of light shoots across the sky.

"Another one." he whispers. Then, after the third shooting star strikes the sky, I tell him to make a wish, to which he replies, "I wish I knew you before the Games."

I grin, maybe aside from the fear of being reaped for six years of your life, the overwhelming torment of killing people, the fear you'll be next and never get to see your loved ones again, the Hunger Games aren't so bad. There isn't much time for us but this maybe the only chance I get, and if it is my last chance, I am going to grab it with both hands and never let go until it is mandatory.


	10. Chapter 10: Marked For Death

Chapter Ten.

**Refusing The Careers Means Certain Death.**

Fortunately, my sleeps are not riddled with nightmares, instead they are peaceful so I awake in a reasonable mood – happy would be stepping over the line, after all I am being trained for slaughter. My morning routine remains the same, a nice shower followed by my body being blow-dried like a dog after its had their haircut which is then followed by getting dressed into the same, clearer training outfit as yesterday, pinning my fringe from me face before going to stuff myself with breakfast.

Today I am the last to enter the dinning area, apart from Dieter but I give him a pass as it must take forever to get ready with all the make-up and styled hair sometimes I wonder how he does it in the time given or if he wakes up hours in advance to look presentable for when his tributes arise to the morning.

An Avox hands me a tall glass of orange juice before I seat myself opposite my mentor and next to Garrett who seems to have calmed down. Dieter then bundles in spraying happiness filled good-morning's to everyone, Vibia then enters from the balcony with Tiberius and sits with the rest of us. I realise that everyone – aside from me and Garrett – are dressed extremely more posh clothing today as they show off the silks and velvets like runway models making me wonder where they were all going today and what are they doing. The Avox then serves me unexpectedly with a plate of scrambled eggs and ham along with bacon and fried bread.

"How did you sleep?" Finnick questions me with a devilish smile which is masked by the glass he holds to his lips. I returned back to the flat about half one this morning as it turns out the shooting stars Cato and I watched were actually a part of a small meteor shower that happens every couple of centuries.

"Oh yes, Anastasia, darlin' Finnick tells us you had the most terrible dream!" Dieter coos gently rubbing my shoulder in attempt to comfort me.

"I'm fine." I chuckle through my mouthful as Tiberius stands to comfort me as well but he resits himself once I had assured them all I was perfectly fine and given Finnick a swift kick underneath the table for brining the subject up.

The next fifteen minutes was taken up with me and Garrett eating in silence as we intently listen into our mentors, escorts and stylist's conversation about what their fun packed day will consist of. The five of them had planned to have lunch in the city followed by several hours of getting the citizens of the Capitol to seal sponsorship deals for Garrett and I.

At five to ten, Garrett nudges me and suggests we should head down to the training floor. I agree and we swiftly say our goodbyes to the District 4 team before leaving the apartment for the elevator. Similar to our first training session, Garrett and I are one of the first District pairs down in the gymnasium, District 1 are there not accompanied by their ally District 2. I notice that District 12 are there, the small boy clings to his district partners arm like a life line and a boy has already started on training, apart from the number on his back and arms, I know automatically he is the male tribute from District 7 by the incredibly wielding of an axe. The elevator ping's behind us and District 2 and 6 step out, Garrett immediately breaks off from me to join his new allies.

Neither of the District 10 tributes had arrived by ten o'clock so I branch off to look around the stations. I had completed the knot area, so the instructor gives me a faint smile and doesn't beckon me over, the medical area hasn't got any other skills to show me as Cassandra had already done so. The Careers had taken up the knife and spear throwing stations and boy from 7 is using the axe station leaving me with the choice of various obstetrical courses ranging from rope climbing, agility and speed. Non of which I am really in the mood for. A small swimming pool catches my eye in the far corner of the gymnasium hidden by the climbing wall. I wonder over, a trainer is wearing a wet suit with his legs dangling in the water and I assume this station was responsible for teaching tributes to swim. Coming from District 4, I already know how to swim and well but other districts, the less fortunate ones such as District's 10, 11 and 12 naturally do not know how swim and many never learn.

I decide against getting in the water and wander off back into the center of the gymnasium. The boy from District 7 was still wielding an axe in a range of clean movements like the weapon was a extra limb. As I approach, I get to watch the grand final of his session on the platform as he twirls around with the blade over his head, he lets one hand leave the axe making the steal end swipe into the neck of a dummy removing the head in a clean move before he throws the axe towards another dummy, the steal razor sharp edge impales the chest of the stuff filled target. My heart leaps to my throat and my stomach knots as I study the damage to the dummies, one headless and the other with a axe embedded in its chest, no one would survive five minutes against this tribute in the arena if he had an axe with him.

"Can I help you, Four?" the boy above me asks gripping another clean bladed axe from the rack. I step up onto the platform to grab the last axe on the rack and held it firmly in my hands. "Want a demonstration?" he asks.

I nod. The boy then starts off with a few simple moves, as he studies to see what my strengths and weaknesses are. Seven then teaches me a couple of simple fighting movements, I surprise myself by being able to move the medium weighted object rather freely. The boy then instructs me to strike the dummy in front of me, honestly my strike was lousy.

"Hold it more like this," the boy says positioning himself behind me to reach forward underneath my arms to slip my hands more apart on the wooden stick. "Now, try it again." he instructs whilst stepping backwards.

The instructor presses a small red button to allow a new dummy to move forward. Holding the axe how Seven had showed me, I swiftly raise the axe above my head before brining it down, to strike the dummy in the crook of its neck. It certainly wasn't perfect but it was better than my first go, Seven continued to give me pointer in return for a knife throwing session, I agreed simply because he was an asset, if I could get him to join mine and Cassandra's alliance then maybe we will last a little bit longer in the arena. After an hour, I had mastered several movements with an axe, it was comforting know that I could defend myself with another weapon aside from a knife and a trident.

District 7 introduced himself as Alden whilst we left the axe station and walked back to the throwing knife area which was vacant as the Career Pack had moved along to hand-to-hand combat. Cassandra comes to join us giving us a reason for her late arrive which was because she had overslept. Alden introduces himself to my ally before I begin to teach him how to throw a knife, unlike Cassandra, Alden is not hopeless in throwing a blade, in face he was rather good at it as the blades of the knives hit the target in predominantly the blue areas.

"Take a little more time to aim, if you sneak up on someone you'll have more time to steady yourself." I tell him.

Alden nods before throwing the knife he holds tightly, he takes up my advice and the blade hits the target in the throat. Cassandra claps and I smile telling him well done when suddenly aggressive shouts echo from behind me, I hear Alden say my name before a large force hits my back shoving me forwards into the rack of blades on display, I turn around to see Iris storming towards me.

"You refuse us! You're a dead-man!" she hisses angrily, Garrett – who had clearly told the Careers about my refusal – and Cato walk towards us trying to break up a fight before it happens but it was too late, Iris launches her fist towards my face, I dodge in the nick of time giving me room to punch her violent in the ribs listening to the sweet sound of fracturing bone beneath my knuckles. Iris lets out a cry masked by a evil laugh. Now the instructors have interfered pulling Iris and I apart. Cato doesn't come to comfort me, I don't expect him too. Careers first. But I am filled with anger and jealously as he instead grips Iris like a loved one and hugs her tightly as she holds her ribs.

"You're dead, Four! YOU ARE DEAD!" she snarls.

No real humour laces into my laugh, but really who cares, all the other tributes have just watched me laugh at a Career Tributes threat, some will think I am stupid, others will question my mental state and then there will be the odd few who will be threatened themselves by my laughter.

Aren't we all dead-men here? I certainly I am now, Career Tributes will eye up the strongest tributes and offer them protection to join their pack in the Games. If refused, that tribute becomes their number one target in the Games.

I have been marked for certain death.


	11. Chapter 11: It's Not About Trust

Chapter Eleven.

**It's Not About Trust.**

The two gymnasium nurses comes to check on both of us but considering I am not hurt in anyway except my knuckles will bruise but thankfully they have not been rendered useless like Iris's side but I am certain in the hospital they will give her something to speed up the healing process so she is fit with dark red vengeance for the Games. Cassandra looked horrified by the events that had unfolded in front of her but she doesn't run off screaming like I assumed she would, breaking off the alliance we had created but instead she stands next to Alden who looked very impressed, my breathing is heavy not because of the little exercise I had but because my body had experienced a flash-flood of adrenaline. Cassandra steps forward to stand level with Alden.

"Do you suffer with anger problems?" Alden asks with a hint of sarcasm.

I glare at him with playful anger before shaking my head, "No, but I don't want them to think I am weak and a push over."

Alden steps forward towards me bringing Cassandra with his. His dark brown eyes flicker over my body as he takes in my body and facial expression. "I can already tell you and Cassandra have made an alliance." Alden says, "Don't suppose you're looking for one more?"

I raise an eyebrow, "I thought you didn't trust me."

"It's not about trust." he tell me.

I smile allowing me teeth to peek between my lips, "Two is better than one. Yes, okay."

Second ally: Alden Calevi, District 7.

The Gamemakers appeared early on the first day. Fifteen or so men and women dressed in deep blue robes. They sit in a glass room that is above the elevators and spreads the entire way around the gymnasium. Keeping us separate but allowing them to watch us from every angle. You hardly acknowledge them because they do the same to you, never coming down to our level, they walk up and down the stands watching us, jotting down notes on our weaknesses and strengths along with ally teams but most of the time they are eating at the endless banquet that has been set for them.

The Gamemakers have gathered in the front room of their overlook quarters as Iris is removed to the hospital and the nurse is looking over me. For the one person that was watching me, this was the most popular they have ever been as the other Gamemakers demand to know what happened but the scrap was uninteresting amongst them as they all go back to studying others or eating because you cannot describe Iris pushing me and I punching her in the ribs as a fight nor can you pass it off as two tributes who have fear gripping at them causing them to lash out in fear. Iris is not afraid.

Breakfast and dinner are served on our floors but at lunch the twenty-four of us eat in a dinning room off the gymnasium. Food is arranged on carts around the room and you simply serve yourself. Yesterday Cassandra and I sat alone on a table in the far right but considering we now have Alden there is three of us. The Career Tributes tend to gather rowdily around one table as if to prove their superiority, that they have no fear of one another and consider the rest of us beneath them. Most of the other tributes sit in their pairs or alone if they have been left by the partners, like lost sheep.

Conversation isn't thriving between the three of us gathered around the circular table. It isn't easy to pick a topic that will not send us spiralling into a deep dark hole of depression. Deeper than we already are. Talking of our homes is too painful. Talking about the present is unbearable and the future doesn't seem worthy of discussion knowing that only one of the descriptions will come true. That is even if we are lucky.

Instead, we turn to the Games, specifically the bloodbath as usually five or six tribute dies within this time as the mouth of the Cornucopia will be lined with silver weapons and drifting away from the center will be survival packs. The tributes who die during this time are typically from District's 12, 3 and 8 and the other tributes either don't get to close to the Cornucopia and snag a survival pack or they usually don't go at all and disappears into the arena and start the Games completely at the bottom.

"So, what do we do?" Cassandra asks me as she loads her spoon with white rice from her plate, Alden is deep in thought but he manages to catch the main snippets of this conversation.

"We shouldn't gets to close," Alden says, "No point putting ourselves at risk within the first few minutes."

I interject, "But all the weapons are in the mouth of the Cornucopia."

"Maybe one of us should go?" Cassandra suggest smartly.

I raise an eyebrow, it was certainly a good idea but it had too many problems, the Careers will have everyone in sight and if one of us is spotted, we become a target. Iris can throw knives and Cherish can shoot, both weapons that can kill from a distance and not even see coming where as Victor Parodi and Garrett can throw spears and Cato is more of a sword and combat fighter, both weapons that kill within a short range and are easy to see. Iris and Cherish are the ones needed to look out for in the bloodbath, just Cherish if we can get the knives first.

"That is too risky, especially with Iris and Cherish loose." I say sternly, hoping that Alden hasn't gotten hooked onto the idea, but he has.

"I'll go." he volunteers.

I shake my head, "That is crazy."

"Ana, I am faster and stronger than either of you, if someone needs to go, I have already volunteered." Alden argues.

"Fine!" I say in a low growl. "But me and Cassandra are staying close."

Cassandra nods in agreement, "Me and Anastasia will try and grab a survival pack each and one for you –"

"– but you keep away from the bloodbath!" Alden snaps at her.

I reluctant to stay out of the action in case something happened, what if someone attacks him and he is injured? I shove a spoonful of food into my mouth to stop myself from saying something incredibly stupid.

"What kind of weapons do you girlie's want for Christmas then?" Alden asks with a small smirk.

Cassandra glanced over at me, I pretend to be hurt, "Knives, of course, jeez Alden don't you know me at all?" I reply in a mocking tone and thankfully both Alden and Cassandra pick up on the humour in my voice. Alden covers his chest, the section over his heart and pretend to be hurt by me comment before begging for forgiveness catching the attention of several other tributes, I laugh for real, then we turn to Cassandra who looks very uncomfortable.

"What about you Cas?" I ask, "You need a weapon of some sort."

She shrugs, clearly not bothered by the conversation. "What do you think would be good?" she asks me.

Alden starts laughing before he speaks and when he does I understand his chuckles, "A cattle prod?" he jokes through his own laughter, I am unable to contain my chuckles once the joke sinks in, Cassandra Potter rolls her eyes at us both before leaning back to chuckle slightly. District 10 is the district in Panem that is responsible for livestock, so sheep, horses, and, more obviously, cows.

"It is about come a District 10 joke was said." she replies failing to suppress her chuckles, "Maybe a blade or something." Alden nods.

I turn to look at Alden, "Are you sure that you are going to be okay carrying these things?" I ask.

Alden smiles taking a bite out of an apple, "You worry about yourself, Princess. And I'll worry about me."

The plan had major flaws any idiot with half a brain could see that one person going into the Cornucopia and coming out with an axe, throwing knives and a blade of some sort is too much for one person to carry but Alden seemed adamant that me and Cassandra keep away from the bloodbath, more in importantly, stay alive, so I keep my mouth shut out of pure respect for Alden, risking his life for us and I return my attention to the tribute dinning hall.

I scan the crowd, Iris has still not rejoined the table but a new face had appeared amongst the Career Tributes. Her dark hair is plated into a single braid down her back with large brown eyes to match. As she fluttered to the side I faintly caught the number of her district that was on the uniform she wore. District 7, Alden's sister was a Career Tribute now. Sharply taking in a gasp of air mixed with a mouthful of food was bound cause a scene as I silently choke on a bread roll. Many tributes didn't care, they probably where hoping I would die, once less person in the arena but the Career Tributes sniggered amongst themselves. Cassandra and Alden pat my back to help me but I really just needed a glass of water which was provided to me by an Avox.

"Are you okay?" Alden asked me but really I didn't fear for myself, I had no reason too as I stared at his sister hoping that Alden would catch my gaze and figure out for himself. And he did several seconds later, his jaw dropped almost to the floor as the coloured drained from his face. Cassandra and I clamp onto his arms keeping him seated as he attempts to get up holding back the yells of his sisters name. Then she turns, along with the rest of the Careers, the boy from District 1 puts his arm around the young girl and smiles in our direction. The girl doesn't glance our way.

Alden stops struggling against our grips and shrugs us off before returning to his meal, despite me and Cassandra spending the meals we have in silence, there was a far more eerie feel about this silence. I glide my palm across the back of Alden's shoulders in a rather futile attempt to comfort him but neither Cassandra or I know the pain he is feeling but he doesn't show pain or emotion.

"I guess it is for the best." he says, stone faced staring off into the distance, "To cut the family ties now because in the arena. We will all turn on each other eventually."

Truth, even allies will turn on each other sooner or later. One bows against the pressure, makes a quick move that is seen to another as threatening, in the arena no one will be thinking completely clearly. You must always been on your guard, even around the allies you have made before they may just be taking you for a fool.

The bell rings at four signifying the end to the second day of training. No note or sneaky look was given to me by Cato, in fact, he did not even look at me for the rest of the training session. Maybe his charming and sexy ways were simply to draw me into the Career Pack and once I had refused, he dropped the act. Or maybe he was in love with Iris and was angered by my actions. My chest strains slightly and through my furious self-loathing, yet questions still manage to push through the hatred: was it all fake? The hugs and kisses? All of it?

God, I am such an idiot.

******A/N: please review! But also remember to favourite and follow if you are enjoying.**


	12. Chapter 12: Private Sessions

Chapter Twelve.

**Private Sessions.**

On the third and final day of training. Cassandra, Alden and myself wonder around trying out throwing a spear which neither of them are bad at if they don't have to throw it from a distance and making fires along with shelters, despite hoping one of us will manage to snag a tent from the supplies at the Cornucopia.

The Gamemakers begin to pull us out of lunch for our private sessions. District by district starting with District 1, always start with the favourites, first the boy, then the girl tribute. This the moment Garrett happily comes to sit with me as the other tributes have found their partners to sit with. Each tribute has fifteen-to-twenty minutes or so before they are dismissed and a another is called, non of them return once that had leave. So Garrett doesn't come back and I sit alone at the table.

Fifteen minutes pass before they call my name. I smooth my hair, set my shoulders back and walk towards the doors. Without thinking I turn back to look at my allies, both give me warming smiles. I walk into the room, met by an uncomfortable tension, these Gamemakers have sat through eight tributes demonstrate their skills already, five of them were Careers and of course I assume the Gamemakers do not know of my refusal to the Career Pack. I had planned to throw knives, spears and a trident before showing some survival skills.

Scooping up five knives, I walk into the center of the gymnasium, there is a shooting range filled with standard bull's-eyes and human silhouettes. Twiddling the blade in my hand, I turn to look at the Gamemakers, almost all of their eyes are on me including the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, I show them the blade before swiftly throwing the knives at the dummy used for knife practise so the blade embed themselves well into the prop. I make sure to make an impression with my last blade and throw it so it hits the dummy in the forehead. I turn to the Gamemakers and Seneca Crane who are smiling and nodding in approval. A fresh new dummy is hung from the ceiling by the instructors as I pick out a trident, suddenly nervous by the heavy weapon in my hand but I push that feeling of home away and lock it tight.

Stepping up to the mark, I grip the metal rod connecting to the sharp pointed top and balance it for a second. Like before, I turn to look at the Gamemakers before throwing the heavy weapon that skewered the dummy in the stomach, snagging it from the ropes that held it up and pinned it to the back wall of the range. The Gamemakers clap above me but I am paralysed with shock to meet their gazes. Finally I reach my last weapon, as I grip the cold metal, the shimmering light catches the print left behind by another tribute, removing the spiked weapon a flash of memory projects itself in front of my eyes. Cato flinging a spear on our first day of training. I push Cato out from my mind, determined to out do him, I allow the instructor's to give up removing the dummy from the wall and set up another one, the male instructor to my left gives me a look as if to say, _go easy _but I ignore him, the Capitol citizens that will be lining up to sponsor the highest scoring tributes. this is my life on the line.

My heart beat pounds in my ears as I step in front of the dummy, aim having to breath slowly to keep calm. I step forward lunging forward releasing the spear that pieces the dummy in the chest. I turn to the Gamemakers who continuous nod and clap in approval. My eyes flicker to Seneca Crane who has a faint smile lining his wafer thin lips, he then raises a glass in my direction.

The Gamemakers don't appear bored by the survival part of my private session but several do turn away to eat food from the buffet and refill their glasses with blue bubbly liquid. I create a fire and demonstrate my trap making abilities, once finished, I turn to face the Gamemakers. Seneca Crane's beady crow like eyes stare at me, piercing tiny holes in my head.

"Thank you, Miss Hollern." the voice of an unfamiliar Gamemaker says happily before a Avox comes to escort me to the gymnasium because apparently something bad can happen within twenty-feet. Once inside the glass elevator, I punch the button for the fourth floor, anxiety clutches my body as I begin to wonder how I did. Was their reaction false just to give me fake hope or was their reaction genuine?

All will be revealed tonight at seven on live television when Head Gamemaker: Seneca Crane announces the Gamemakers scores for each player to the entire nation of Panem. This taste of the tributes will spark betting that will continue throughout the Games. The number – which will be between one and twelve: one being irredeemably bad and twelve being unattainably high – signifies the promise of a tribute. The mark is not a guarantee of which tribute will win as it is only an indication of the potential a tribute has shown in training. Often, because of the variables in the actual arena, the high-scoring tributes go down almost immediately. A few years ago, the boy who won the Games only received three in his private session, and still to this day Michael sits beside me pleased with his score.

I've been hoping my throwing skills earn me a eight or nine, Career Tribute standards. High but not participially overly powerful. But I guess I will have to chew my nails to and attempt to keep my nerves at bay until tonight.


	13. Chapter 13: The Scores

Chapter Thirteen.

**The Scores.**

An inviting ping echoed from the elevator as it stopped gently on the floor belonging to the District 4 team, I am shocked as I enter the floor via the front door that the area is empty. No glorious hello from Dieter and no bombardment of questions from Finnick and Michael because, well, non of them where there. The simple and soft noise of running water comes from Garrett's room fills the floor and loudens as I pass to enter mine.

Inside my bedroom, I relieve myself of my horrid training clothing before using the nicest shower setting in order to waste the most time, my tense muscles are massaged by soft sponges and the jet water. I am devoured by mint soap, the smell reminds me of Leila on the day of the reaping. I crave her embrace more than an Haymitch Abernathy craves a drink to wash away the nightmares. Anyone can tell he is damaged by the Games because the memories don't fade after they announce the winner, once the twenty-third person is dead. Every year, you are pulled out, your story blared across Panem as you train another two innocent children for slaughter. It is enough to drive anyone to drink, Michael screams and Finnick is silently in pain but he must be strong for Annie.

The shower shuts off after the sequence of washing motions has finished, which I am glad of because otherwise I would have stood there for hours, singing to myself. There was something about the Mockingjay song that meant something inspiring, they were not suppose to exist. They are another piece of evidence that President Snow cannot control everything.

I slip on a dark blue silk shirt with long sleeves with cuffs that clamp around my wrists tightly with a pair of black elasticated trousers that clung to my body like a second skin. Selecting one of the many coloured headbands from my dresser, I pick out a nice black one with small studded diamonds but my intention wasn't to look fabulous, it was simply to me something I can collapse in, if the worst should happen and I get one in my score.

Garrett is on the sofa when I enter into the living room, his legs are spread out on the coffee table. If Dieter was here, he wouldn't hesitate to knock Garrett against the back of the head because it is disrespectful or something stupid. Disrespectful to who? The Capitol? They don't deserve our respect. I gesture to the seat next to him, silently asking if it was okay for me to be seated so close to him. Garrett nods at me like I am a mad person for asking but he nor I could have thought about what happened after. No I didn't kiss him or vise versa. As I sat down and sunk into the plush sofa, Garrett suddenly wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. Into a hug.

He rested his lips on the top of my head, breathing in my scent, "You smell like mints." he comments into my hair, slightly muffled before resting his chin on the top of my head. For a unknown reason, I am unable to contain my giggles that bubble in my chest. It was the first time anyone has compliment on my smell and it was slightly stranger to hear it from another tribute, even more so because it is from Garrett – my district partner.

I gently turn my head to sniff the small section of skin above the lapel of his shirt. "You smell like strawberries. It is very feminine." I tell him through my chuckles, Still wrapped in his arms. Garrett joins in with my laughter. We sit there giggling like the teenagers we are, the front door opens but the noise is muffled by our hysteric laughter.

Dieter is the first to walk around the sofa to stare at us oddly, clutched in his velvet gloved hands Dieter holds six shopping bags, all with names of shops I have never heard of in fancy golden letters. Dieter dumps the shopping bags on the space of the sofa next to me. Finnick moves next to the escort and stares at us with shock filled eyes as Garrett and I begin to come down from our high of giggles. Who knew the smell of someone could be so funny? But I guess with only a day left before the Games, we should be allowed to laugh at anything we seem fit.

"Where is Michael?" I ask.

Dieter's eyes flicker away from me, "These are for you." he tells us before taking two small black boxes out from one of the six shopping bags. He hands them to us, one to Garrett and one to me. We look at each other before opening the boxes. Inside set in a satin napkin was a beautiful gold bracelet, picking it up to study the jewellery piece more closely. The circle of the bracelet was made up of gold waves to represent the sea of District 4, inside was an inscription that reads,_ the sea hath no king but a god alone_... Poseidon. I smile sadly at Dieter. The inscription links to both mine and Garrett's heritage as District 4 citizens but also to our Tribute Parade theme. God and Goddess. Husband and Wife. Partners.

I slip on my trinket and it fits perfectly. Garrett studies his jewellery piece which was not a bracelet like mine, it was instead a necklace with a long chain with a gold pendent, the front was decorated with simple waves and on the back was also an inscription but I do not ask what the words say, that is personal to him and him alone.

By the time dinner is served, Michael is still nowhere to be seen and a small panic set in but as Finnick took his usual motherly role, I was distracted by his questions on the private training sessions. Garrett allowed full access into the structure of his private sessions, he first showed his strength in a small session with an instructor before showing off his ability by wielding a range of weapons.

"The Gamemakers seemed interested." he tells us with a small smile.

Finnick catches my eyes before asking me how I played my private session. Like Garrett I saw no harm is telling them what I did, throwing knives, spears and a trident before showing off a little of my survival skills. I also inform them how the Gamemakers seemed locked on me throughout the time. The boys nod in approval, Dieter remains smiling and happy during the conversation but his eyes seemed targeted on our trinkets he had given to us, I assume he wants us to wear them in the Arena as each tribute is allowed to wear one token from their district but I already have Leila's mothers ring I promised to wear and the last thing I would want to do is upset Dieter or back-stab Leila. Maybe I can sneak both tokens into the Arena, or maybe the Gamemakers wont be so up tight about it.

As we are in the middle of our dessert, the large television placed inside the wall of the living area, opposite the sofa comes to life with the symbol of Panem in the center of the screen and begins to play the anthem familiar to every citizen of the nation. Garrett and I do not hesitate to scoop up our plates and spoons before dashing for the best seats. Finnick, Dieter, Vibia and Tiberius follow us sensibly maintaining their position as adults.

After the anthem finishes, the screen is lit up with the face and upper body of Seneca Crane, his short beard neatly kept in a traditional style of flicks beside his nose and on the outer edge of his cheekbones. He grins to the camera dazzling all of Panem with his pearly white teeth. "_Ladies and Gentlemen – the training scores for the tributes of the 84__th__ Annual Hunger Games_." he says in a thick masculine Capitol accent. Garrett and I watch the screen intently.

"_V__ictor __Parodi; District 1, with a score of...9"_

"_Cherish __Glaeser; District 1, with a score of...10."_

"_Cato Ludwig; District 2, with a score of... –"_ I held my breath. _"– 11." _

Wow, he certainly didn't hold back in the session.

"_Iris Castillo; District 2, with a score of...10."_

Shame, I really wanted her to get lower than Career standard, just so she is slightly humiliated during her interview with Caesar Flickerman.

District 3 pair, Lucas Hamilton and Eva Holt both receive three's but I doubt anyone expected them to get higher, but they are a pair to look out for, a man thirty or so years back won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once.

Now it is time for mine and Garrett's scores. Following Hunger Games tradition in scoring, the men go first so a small picture of Garrett is projected onto the screen looking plain faced in his training uniform. Seneca Crane looks down at the sheet of paper in his hands before leaning forward to the microphone.

"_Garrett Larkin; District 4, with a score of...9."_

Finnick automatically lunges forward to slap Garrett on the back as the boy fails to suppress a smile, he had gotten an equal score to one other Career member meaning he is still in their pack solidly as it has been known for Careers to drop tributes from their ranks due to bad training scores. Silence struck the room as my picture is displayed.

"_Anastasia Hollern; District 4, with a score of...11."_

My heart explodes out of my chest at the number flashed on screen, Garrett ruffles my hair and Finnick embraces me tightly. I had outranked five of the six Career tributes, of course depending on how Alden's sister does will determine the ultimate tie breaker between the Careers but truly I am just happy I outranked Iris. But ELEVEN! Far better than I ever wanted, but now I am a target for the others, but that depends on the rest of the scores.

"_Levi Montgomery; District 5, with a score of...4."_

"_Kassie Blakley; District 5, with a score of... 5."_

The District 6 pair: Dayo Okeniyi and Lisa Parr both received four in their private sessions.

"_Alden Calevi; District 7, with a score of...9."_

A huge grin is plastered across my face, Alden had equalled to District 1 male tribute Victor Parodi but also with Garrett.

"_Jacqueline Calevi; District 7, with a score of...7."_ Average – she did average.

"_Timothy Fowler; District 8, with a score of...5."_

"_Arlette Iverson; District 8, with a score of...4."_

"_Cedric Hammond; District 9, with a score of...4."_

Now that came as a surprise considering this tribute volunteered in the place of his younger brother, who by the looks of it was no older than thirteen but many of the tributes faces already who have flashed up on screen have been no younger than thirteen themselves.

"_Tandra Petrie; District 9, with a score of...7."_ Average again.

"_Omar Stokes; District 10, with a score of...6."_

"_Cassandra Potter; District 10, with a score of...8."_

I am filled with disbelief, how on earth did she get eight – I am pleased don't get me wrong but I am now convinced my ally is hiding something, no way could she get an eight with only her knowledge of planets and ability to make shelter, maybe she showed the Gamemakers how to throw a knife but I still don't understand... but the television show moves on despite my confusion to District 11.

Both tributes from District 11, Talon Lazarus and Deana Grindle receive respectable nines, another two Career standard scores.

A small, boy with jet black hair and sunken face appears on the screen. _"Waylon Marsden; District 12, with the score of...3."_

And the final tribute of the 84th Annual Hunger Games, _"Danette Lennox; District 12, with a score of...6."_

Certainly no Katniss Everdeen or Peeta Mellark but they have achieved okay scores. Joint first with Cato was my position in the Hunger Games. Iris and Cherish had received second and Garrett along with Victor, Alden, Talon and Deana have booked themselves third place. But like I said before, the scores mean nothing in the Arena when you are faced with real life or death.

Garrett gives me a hug and we congratulate each other. Finnick puts one arm around me and another around Garrett and pulls us into a massive hug, it was comforting. Vibia and Tiberius congratulate us separately, I like Vibia, despite her exaggerated look she was human beneath it all. Content with feelings and aside from telling me how proud she is about my score, I can tell she really knows it doesn't make a difference to the game, it just projects moral targets.

"You two, my tributes!" Dieter squeals high-pitched enough for all the dogs in the Capitol to here, "Go get some beauty sleep for tomorrow is another day with new adventures." he then taps our shoulders edging us towards the our corridor. Myself and Garrett reach our doors before sharing another awkward goodbyes and we'll see you in the morning.

As soon as I enter the room, I throw myself into the soft sheets of my bed fully clothed and I lay there for a moment, how is that training score possible, not to sound vain but my throwing was good but enough for a nine, pushing a ten and the survival piece was barely worth a one but to match with Cato, this huge, eighty-kilogram lump of muscle with killer abilities. And even to have outranked Iris, granted she is a bitch and maybe the only face I wouldn't mind seeing in the sky in the Arena, but she is a killer, natural born and raised killer.

The stress of the day, mainly the throwing of pointed objects but also the pain of my brother not being with me during the announcement of the scores has warn me out, I strip off my clothing and push then to the end of the bed to lay like a starfish in the middle of my bed in my undergarments, I drift off, relived and with the number eleven still flashing behind the darkness of my lids.


	14. Chapter 14: Darkness Shatters The Light

Chapter Fourteen.

**Where There Is Light, Dark Will Follow.**

During the night, I am awoken by the faint, annoying, tapping on the outside of my bedroom door. The high-pitched creak of the door opening brings my attention to the doorway where a tall, dark figure stood. At first I thought it is Finnick but when the figure lingers in the doorway waiting for my approval to enter, I know it is Michael, he has always had good manors and respected what is my space and never enters without permission, even after his games.

"Come in." I beckon with my groggy voice as my throat strains with dryness. Michael enters, closing the door behind me. My elder brother moved onto my bed beside me before pulling me to his chest and resting his cheek on the top of my forehead, my right ear was placed on top of the section above his heart. A heart that has been broken too many times.

"Well done with your training scores, I am very impressed when I saw them." he whispers the compliment to me.

I smile gently, "Thank you, it would have been better if you were there with me and Garrett."

His muscular arms tightened around me, I feel his lips press gently into the hay-stack of hair on top of my head, "I am really sorry."

"Where were you?" I ask.

Around me, his body stiffens, "Ana, please, lets not talk about –"

"I deserve to know where you disappear too." I interject.

Garrett does this a lot, disappears from District 4 for several days at a time but I have never questioned it out load to him before because I always assumed it was something to do with being a victor, the constant visits to the Capitol for business that is not to be spoken about. But surely I have a right to know where my brother goes.

Michael sighs heavily, "When the Games finish, the Capitol becomes obsessed with the victors that surprised them, or the ones that showed such raw ruthlessness, their enthusiasm and love for that victor doesn't stop when they finish their Victor's Tour, many tributes are forced by President Snow into..."

"What?" I ask moving to sit up and stare at him through the darkness. He looks at me for a second before turning away. "Forced into what, Michael?"

"Prostitution."

When I was seven, I tripped and fell down the stairs in my mothers old house. When I hit the bottom, every wisp of air had been knocked from my lungs and my head was light as I stared up at the ceiling. Aside from my mothers callings. I couldn't reply to her, my chest had fallen in on myself and several of my ribs were fractured, but it wasn't the fall or the injuries that was the worse part, it was not being able to breath which was the worse part. The same pain I felt now.

"Does Finnick –"

Michael nods, "But Finnick is slightly different, he makes the game his own, from his 'lovers' he doesn't take money, instead they pay him with secrets."

"Does Annie or Mags?"

Michael shakes his head with a slight smirk, but I couldn't understand what was so funny. "Annie became unattractive to the Capitol in a sexual way because of her unstable mental state. Mags agreed, but now with her age, she is free."

"Why would any tribute agree to do that?" I ask, my voice tinted with anger.

Michael turns to look dead in my eyes as he hardened his stare in reaction to my anger and apparent lack of understanding. "President Snow threatens to have loved-ones of the tributes killed. He did the same to Mags as he did to me and Finnick." he pauses for a second before turning away from me, "He threatened to have you killed, Anastasia."

Shock doesn't hit me, the Capitol have been trying to kill me and every other child since the day we turn twelve. "And if I win these games, will Snow force me to sell my body to the citizens of the Capitol in exchange for even more money?!" I ask in disbelief but I am also laced with complete fear.

Michael swallowed before nodding silently, "You have already showed the Capitol your ability with your training score, matching Cato was a good idea because the audience will recognise you and they will be able to see who are your family and friends, so if you do refuse and they kill one, their will be upset in the Capitol."

I sigh heavily, "I am not prostituting. Fuck that." I hiss angrily.

Michael lets out a small chuckle, "You always where strong willed." he yawns, before look over to the clock, "Well, you better get back to sleep, Dieter has a no-so-fun packed day for you and Garrett tomorrow."

I laugh, "Oh, great," I say sarcastically. Michael gets up, kisses the space between my eyebrows before leaving by bedroom but the disturbing atmosphere of the conversation lingered in my mind. From scared citizens of Panem, to terrified tributes, one turned a Victor created into a prostitute. The situation seems unreal and disgusting, there is no way I would let some sparkled, plastic Capitol man lay over me, not for my first time. But pushing aside the evilness and hatred for the President that bubbled in my chest, I manage to fall asleep within the hour, my upper body ached as my muscles were unnaturally tense so I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, hoping to wake up back in District 4 and it was all part of some twisted dream.

******A/N: ********Thank you to all the great reviews I have received, make sure you continue to read on if you are enjoying it and make sure that you please continue to review and follow or favourite, please, your review really help me to expand and improve on my writing. So please continue to review.**


	15. Chapter 15: Fashion Police

Chapter Fifteen.

**Dieter Rollo Is The Leader of The Fashion Police.**

At sun rise, I lay in bed watching the night of the Capitol washes away to the unforgiving morning light. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, a day off in our district, usually I devote all my Sunday's to sea of District 4, starting at six in the morning, I row out till I am thirty or forty meters from the shore, far enough to be away from the screams of young girls getting slashed with sea water but close enough to be able to jump into the water in case of an emergency,

Dieter enters my living quarters, reminding me there is another "big, big, big, big day!" ahead. Tomorrow night will be our television interviews, I guess the whole team will have their hands full readying us for that. Vibia and Tiberius will be getting our outfits ready, Dieter will be readying us for how to act in front of the cameras, how to walk and talk. Finnick and Michael will tell us our angles, whether to act innocent and snivelling or fierce and fearless.

I get up and take a quick shower before heading down to the dinning room where Garrett, Finnick, Michael and Dieter are huddled around the table, talking in hushed voices which wasn't odd for my group because they are a strange one but hunger wins out over curiosity and I load up my plate with breakfast food, I decided to go for the stew today which was made with tender lamb chunks in a thick sauce perfectly laid on a bed of white rice before I joined them. I've shovelled about halfway through the mound before realizing no one is talking. Looking up from my plate and wiping my mouth, Finnick stares at me like he has never seen a woman eat before, Garrett looks impressed by my capacity for food. Dieter has turned away to slip at his coffee and Michael doesn't look bothered due to our childhood, my brother knows I could probably eat our house out of food on either a good or bad day.

"So, what is the plan for today?" I ask.

Finnick picks up his fork to gesture to me and Garrett, "You will each have four hours with Dieter for presentation and four with your mentors, so Anastasia your with me and Garrett with Michael for content." says Finnick before turning to me with a somewhat devilish, "You start with Dieter, Anastasia."

I growl playfully in a way to mask my annoyance as I can only imagine what the next torturous hours will contain but I do not argue as there is still a shining hope that no matter how much I try, my mind cannot find anything Dieter will have to teach me that could take up four hours, but he got me working down until the last few minutes. He shoved me lightly into my room as soon as I had finished eating and puts me into a very nice full-length gown and high-heels shoes, neither ones I will be wearing for the actual interview. Dieter spends the first hour and an half teaching me how to walk in high-heels, I have never worn shoes such as these before and my body refuses to get used to the unstoppable wobbling on the balls of my feet, my ankles twist outwards and in total before I managed to keep myself steady, I must of met the floor a total of thirty times and each time Dieter couldn't fathom how I was unable to walk in them until I snapped at him.

"I would sincerely like to see you walk in these, ridiculous things!" I growl, pointing at the shoes, he chuckled as if I had issued him a real challenge, amazingly, Dieter and I are the same size in shoe, size 5. My escort slips into a pair of six inch high-heels, two inches higher than the shoes I am requested to walk in and begins to strut around the floor surface of my bedroom without a hiccup, and just to add insult to injury, he decides to show a little dance before standing like a diva in front of me.

"Yeah, okay. I get it." I say standing back up, determined to walk in these stupid inventions. The dress poses another problem as it keeps tangled around my shoes, I hitch it up so I do not trip and then Dieter swoops down on me like a buzzard smacking my hands away with annoyance and yelling for me not to raise it above the ankle. Dieter takes me out of my bedroom ordering me to stand in front of my bedroom door whilst he stood at the front door passed the living and dinning area. He explains this is the estimated length I will have to walk on the stage to Caesar Flickerman.

"Now, walk to me." he orders. I take a deep breath before taking my first step forward, followed by another keeping my hands gripped on the fabric of the dress just below my waist, to pull it up slightly so the hem of the dress doesn't nick under my shoe. Emerging from the corridor I can see that Michael and Garrett are sat at the dinner table discussing Garrett's strategy for the Capitol interview and Finnick is sat on the sofa with Vibia, maybe discussing my outfit for tomorrows interview but I am unsure, I feel their awkward gazes fall upon me as I walk through the open space.

"Smile!" Dieter instructs me, but I feel far too ridiculous to smile however I do attempt and manage to pull off a small sweet grin.

Dieter makes me do the walk several times until I have conquered walking, there is still sitting, posture because I apparently slouch, eye contact, hand gestures and smiling. Apparently, smiling is the most important thing, Dieter gets me to say banal phrases, starting with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. By lunch time, the muscles in my cheeks are twitching with overuse and aching profoundly.

"Excellent progress!" Dieter says merrily as I strut for one last time across the space between my bedroom door and the front door. "If you do all that, the audience are sure to fall in love with you, Anastasia."

"You mean, you think they don't like me already?" I find myself asking.

Dieter stiffens beside me, touching my shoulder, "They already like you, we want them to love you." he assures me. "When you are having your interview, try to think of yourself amongst friends, I assume you have them."

I let out a stiff chuckle, "I might be a little antisocial, but I am not a hobbit."

Dieter smiles trying to hold back an explosion of laughter, "Lets go eat." he says touching my back, I kick off my shoes with an overwhelming thankfulness for my feet to be on flat ground. Garrett and Michael are already at the dinner table and seem in very good moods. Finnick joins me at the table and we commence with lunch.

XxX

After lunch, Finnick takes me by the wrist and half-heartedly drags me into the living room to direct me to the couch and then just stands at stares at me for a minute or so. I see suddenly insecure about my body as his eyes grope me.

"What?" I finally ask.

Finnick raises an eyebrow to look at my eyes rather than my body and face, "I am trying to figure out what to do with you Anastasia," he says as he moves a footstool in front of my knees and sits on it, his gaze is still questioning, "How am I going to present you. Are you going to be fierce or charming. Maybe blunt." Finnick rubs the stubble at his chin, "So far, you're a shining star, Vibia made you look beautiful and you have evened out the leader of the Career Pack in training scores. I know for fact –" no doubt from his lovers "– people are intrigued, adding your unusual past, they want to know everything about you. The impression you make tomorrow will ultimately determine what I can get you in terms of sponsors." Finnick explains.

Having watched the tribute interviews all my life, I know there's truth to what he's saying. If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous, brutal or cowardly. The tributes each has their own unique angle, normally it is based on their personal outlook on things so it doesn't surprise me when Finnick tells me that Garrett's approach was humorous because it comes naturally.

"You're a little harder to read, sometimes you are cheery, happy and charming but other times you are sarcastic and rather dark." Finnick tells me.

My mouth falls open, "I am not!" I say.

"Oh please, you forget miss, I live next door, I see you every morning and night when you return from school, by now I know more about you than your own mother. That cheery and carefree girl from the chariot was brilliant but that dark side of you, the throwing of knives and the fight with Iris –"

"Not a fight." I interupt.

Finnick raises a hand to silence me, "Mixed with your training score, gives you an edge. No one knows what to expect, so you can play it off. So pretend I am the Caesar." Finnick instructs me smoothing back his hair and sitting up straight to try and resemble Caesar Flickerman but without all the plastic surgery and coloured hair he doesn't really come close, "Delight me." he challenges.

I am uncomfortable during the next half an hour as Finnick asks me questions and I try to answer them in winning fashion but all I can think is how unjustly the whole situation is, the Hunger Games and why am I hopping around like some trained dog trying to please people I despise? But I know how this one interview will impact my life in the Games, if they love me I will be blessed with food when there is a scarcity of it, medicine if I am injured and possibly even blades if I am weapon-less and if I make a complete fool of myself the sponsor will no doubt support the other tributes, allow me to starve and to die without weapons to defend myself.

"You need to open up slightly more." Finnick tells me, "I have asked you thirty questions and I still know nothing around your family, friends and what you care about? They want to know about you, Ana."

"You already know everything about me." I say.

Finnick sighed heavily, "Yes but that isn't the point, _they _want to know about you_._"

"But I don't want them too." I mumble, small tears tickle the corners of my eyes, "They're taking my future, so they cannot have the things in the past. They belong to me."

My mentor leans forward to touch my shoulder, "I know but you are going to have to make something up, lying should be second nature to a tribute, so make something up but keep is low key nothing amazing so the Capitol gets hooked on your personal life, because that is a recipe for disaster."

For the next hour and a half, Finnick asks the simplest but deepest of questions, how my life was growing up in District 4 and the connection with my brother, thankfully Finnick cruses over the personal stuff figuring that my real reaction maybe best. He also informs me that Caesar may show a little snippets of video but it will only be of the tribute parade and the reaping, nothing hardcore that will result in massive upset because apparently being called to death and showed off like a fancy object ready for auction isn't upsetting enough.

During the final hours of my time with Finnick, dark yet charming was my approach to the interview as in the time, both Finnick and I discover I am not mysterious, sexy or cocky. However my underlining love for sarcasm means I am funny but only in the ways too offend which isn't the best idea to insult your lifeline. By the end of the session, my metal state is questionable as I feel like someone who has been involuntarily moulded into someone else, but that is a lie because I am still me, I have my own hatred for the Games and with the part of me that doesn't mind killing to get home makes me dark but my ability to be social and funny makes me charming. Parts of me love the Capitol life, the food mainly but I hate their sense of fashion I would go blind with all the bright colours but I suppose it wont be too bad, at least if I am blind I wont be able to see their stupid wigs, coloured bodies and awful tattoos.

I force myself to eat with the others at the table but my body is taking the full strain of my worried thoughts, knowing it is a little under two days until games begin, until the bloodbath. Twenty-four innocent children will become the most watched people in the nation as we become murders, I wonder how my mother will react to watching her daughter kill another, becoming a murder. I think about watching Cato kill without a second glance. Will he kill me? If I was going to be killed in those games I would prefer it to be Cato because Iris would drag it out, cover my body in cuts and let me bleed slowly whilst tormenting me. Or maybe Cassandra, will she be quick? But what is she hiding from me and Alden, an eight is above average.

I give my brother a hug before kissing his forehead intently at the dinner table in front of everyone before informing them I was going to be in my bedroom if in the unlikely event anyone needed me and left. Inside my bedroom, swapping my full-length gown I hadn't changed from Dieter session for a silk night-gown, I crawled on top of my bed, I turned to the window as it was still day in the Capitol. Upon my request, the screen changed to District 4, the beach by the harbour which I catch a glimpse of the wooden hut where now the boys would be drinking, no doubt. It was a tradition for the fishing crews to arrange meetings inside the spare cabin so they can discuss when to meet tomorrow, a hour or so before hand so they can get them drinks in them, play a few games before all gathered around the small portable projector that will light up when the interviews begin.

A knock at my bedroom door is followed by it open giving me no time to reply. The Avox boy entered, his hair has been dyed a even uglier colour, apricot orange. His eyes light up when he sees District 4 plastered on the screen in front of him but quickly covers his emotions up and walks around the bed to remove the clothing from my hamper and floor. My head flickered from the boy to the beaches of District 4.

"You're from District 4!" I exclaim bouncing off my bed. The Avox boy shook his head without making eye contact with me, I snag the piece of clothing he held so pull his focus from the mess to me, "Who are you?" I ask, the boy looked at me with pleading eyes before shaking his head.

"Please?" I ask.

The Avox boy let out an angry hiss which was surprising because it was the first time this Avox has made a noise in my presence, it is somewhat a brilliant moment despite the anger that associated his noise but he follows it up with a gentle sigh before pointing to the screen displaying the now sunset beach of District 4 then turned the index finger on himself, confirming that District 4 was his home before he became an Avox, but what did this boy do to be punished in such a inhuman way, cutting someone's tongue and condemning them to a life of servitude in silence? District 4 is a beautiful place to live so why would he try to leave?

"Did you try leave District 4?" I ask. Surrounding District 4 like every other district in Panem, the perimeter of the numbered district is set by a series of tall electric fences. But like all districts after time they see is ecological to turn the electric fence of as it trusts the citizens and in four the Peacekeepers usual remained stationed around the fence, they are friendly though, most of them anyway. The Head Peacekeeper named Embry lives near the Victor's Village, surposely he is there to make sure no one else enters the Victors Village and starts to cause problems, especially after a the Games have finished and if the victor is from four, people do not react well naturally to seeing a murderous child who may or may not have been involved in their child's murder moving back into their district being blessed with riches and a home but the Peacekeeper's know that a village full of Hunger Games victors can protect themselves from a district of angry people.

The Avox nods, removing his gaze from me to begin to fold a dirty top in his hands. I remove it gently not to startle him. "Why?" I ask him gently.

He touches my chest with his index finger, not in anger but in sadness, his eyes glisten with tears. I am startled for a moment, was it me? I had never met this boy before, or was it because I was a tribute? The boy then gestures to the surroundings. The tribute living quarters, he gestured passed the window loving like a frantic to point at the buildings of the Capitol. The Hunger Games, this boy was running to avoid his fate as a tribute.

"You were trying to run away from the Games." I confirm his silence after piecing all the puzzle pieces together. The boy nods with a sad smile, it was the perfect punishment, try running away from the Games and we will make you serve the tributes in the run-up to their fate, he is now stuck in the middle of a terrible mind games, made to suffer in silence as year after year, he feeds and cleans up after the tributes a week before their slaughter. The one thing he wanted release from, he can now never get away from. I stand up to face him completely, his face was six or so inches from mine and I could feel his static breath on my face as he wonders if the room is ridged with microphones and secret cameras, certainly wouldn't surprise me if the Gamemakers wanted to see how the tributes acted away from the cameras and the audiences, gathering up ideas to use against us in the Games.

"Do you have a family in District 4? Mother, father and maybe some siblings?" I ask him.

Again, the Avox boy simply nods before pointing to my chest again with his index finger before holding up his middle finger to make a two. I think he means he has two sisters, where they at the reaping? It could have been their names called during the reaping.

"I will get you out of here." I promise but it is empty knowing I have no real way how to get this boy back home, it isn't like if I win I can slip him under a coat or put him in a bag and carry him onto the train with me. Maybe I can make some kind of deal with President Snow, pay an obscene about of money for this Avox's, get him back to his family.

The boy smiles, the sadness is there but faint and he simply shakes his head, there is no way out for him. He then gestures to the bed which is begging for me to roll up inside. The boy touches my shoulder edging me closer to the silk sheeted bed. I crawl in between the sheets like a small child and allow the Avox to tuck me in.

Then he leaves, but I wanted him to stay until I fall asleep because, well, he was home too. I craved him like I wanted Garrett and Michael, to hold onto the most significant thing I have, a tiny fraction of home. A fraction – it is small and in this life, it is fragile and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We as tributes must never lose it or give it away. We must never let President Snow take it from me.

Home is where the heart is, not his Arena or his television show.


	16. Chapter 16: Capitol Interview

Chapter Sixteen.

**Capitol Interview with Caesar Flickerman.**

In the morning I am awoken, not by the boy which would have been less of a shock but my odd looking prep-team who are hanging over me studying my sleepy face with confusion. I put it down to being unaware that people look gross in the mornings and only assuming that stupid stereotypical adverts that don't help the idea of women looking horrid in the morning. My lessons with Dieter and Finnick are over and this day belongs to Vibia, Coren and Shazza. A dark cloud hovers over me as now I am counting on Vibia to make me look pretty-enough so the Capitol won't pay so much attention to my sinister comments that may leak out of mouth because after my conversation with the boy Avox, I have plenty of nasty things to say but I can trust myself to hold back the stupid and release the lies I also have lined up.

Hoping and praying the process of going through a miniature Remake Centre experience wont take to long but surprisingly my prep-team exceed my expectations and work on my body until the late afternoon. They turn my skin into a glowing wonder before Coren and Shazza paint my twenty nails a deep sea blue whilst Vibia gets to work on my hair, she grumbles about the shortness but there is still something to work with, she washes, dries and brushes the knots away before with the metal end of her styling comb she draws an invisible line across my head from the outer corner of my right eye. The hair to the left of the line she gels down behind my ear so it looks sleek. Vibia does the same to the right side of my head before turning her attention to the long section of hair in the middle of my head. She then teases the hair, I don't mean she flirted with it or anything, she simply used the comb to back-brush the hair to the front of my forehead before pinning the fringe backwards making sure the top layer of hair is flat and clean so the entire look is neat and smart. They erase my face with a layer of pale make-up before Shazza begins to go to work on my make-up, I am not allowed to peak in any mirrors so I am unaware of what they are doing to my face however the gentle wetness of liquid eye shadow tickles my eyes and lips.

Vibia then exits for a short minute before entering again with that I assume is my interview dress, but I cannot see what it looks like as it is closely covered with a white plastic sheet. "Close your eyes." she orders. I do as I am told and the moment I do, rustling fills the room as the plastic is removed from the dress, then there is the rush of cold air as my robe is removed, so I stand in my knickers assigned to me as I am forbidden to wear a bra tonight. The gentle brush of a silk material is next to stroke my skin as I step into the dress. Within seconds it is secured around my body. I clutch, who I believe is Coren's hand as I blindly step into my shoes, happiness floods through me as these shoes are five centimetres shorter than the pair Dieter made me practise in. There is some adjusting and fidgeting. Then silence.

"May I open my eyes?" I ask for permission.

My prep-team giggles, "Yes, of course!" Shazza squeals.

Slowly, I allow my eyes to be reopened from their closed state, to stare at the creature that was being reflected in the full-length mirror opposite me. My dress was full-length and dazzlingly beautiful, the top was made was a teal corset decorated with blue lace, the dress remained slim fitting in the same dominate teal but as it travelled downwards it mixed with blues and light greens, the ruffles created waves amongst the colours. Studded in a range of patters were petite jews of every colour of green, blue and teal. The slightest movement made me appear to be in a whirl pool of waves. My eyes were painted lightly with similar greens and blues that complimented the dress perfectly and in the outer corner of each eye was a teal jem. Vibia saw the need for fake eyelashes so I am also wearing a pair of thick black lashes. For the first time in possibly my entire life, I am not the tom-boy instead I am a beautiful young girl.

After the gushing is over from my prep-team we go to meet up with the rest of the District 4 crowd at the elevator. Tiberius and his group have been hard at work and Garrett looks strikingly amazing in a light blue suit and dark blue shirt, the buttons of his shirt are undone slightly revealing the hard muscle of his chest, the gold metal of his trinket glistens in the artifical light. Dieter, Finnick and Michael have all dressed up for the occasion and I return compliments when they are given to me as I catch Finnick's eyes, he smiles flirtatiously and winks, I chuckle before returning what I hope is a sexy grin before turning back to the front of the elevator.

When the machine opens, Districts 1, 2 and 3 are already lined up to take to the stage, soon the rest of the twenty-four tributes are lined up in their district pairs. Tonight I will be the seventh tribute on the stage as the girl tribute precedes the boy. I really wish I could go first but no, we must remain in order from smallest to largest, I will have to listen to six other tributes being witty, funny, humble, fierce and humours. Along the walls opposite to the one where her have been told to stand next too are a row of small televisions allowing us to study our opponents.

There is a small section before the initial show begins where the twenty-four tributes are required to walk in single file, like the interview the girl goes first followed by her male district partner across the stage before looping back to their spots backstage. The crowd roars like the Tribute Parade, they throw flowers and kisses as the tributes quickly loop around the stage for no more than a minute. Although the evening is closing in, the City Circle is brighter than a summer's day in four. An elevated seating unit has been set up for special guests with the stylists commanding the front row. The cameras will turn to them when the crowd is reacting to our garments they have created. The building on my right has a large balcony reserved for the Gamemakers, many of the other balconies surrounding the City Circle have been claimed by television crews. The City Circle and the avenues that feed into it are completely packed with people, standing only rooms are maintained so more people can pack in. The boys at the fishing harbour in District 4 will be crowded around waiting anxiously as every home and community halls around the the country, every television set will be turned on. Every citizen in Panem is tuned in. A billions of eyes are pin-pointed on me as I first step on the stage, my breathing is rapid and shallow as my pulse pounds in my wrists, neck, chest and temples making me dizzy. My mind wanders to back home, imagining the shocked look on my fishing crews faces as they barely recognise me. Leila is probably sitting on the edge if her seat, searching for her mothers ring that is placed on the thumb of my left hand with the bracelet that Dieter had given me on my right. We parade on the stage before Caesar Flickerman bounces onto the stage and kick starts the show.

Caesar Flickerman has been hosting the tribute interviews for more than forty years. It is terribly scary how throughout this process of time, his appearance has been frozen, the same face under a coating of pale make-up along with the same hairstyle that he dyes a different colour each Hunger Games, this year his hair is a carnation pink which is the same colour as his ceremonial suit with a silver shirt beneath. His entire outfit was dotted with a thousand tiny electric bulbs that twinkle like stars. They do surgery in the Capitol, to make people appear younger and thinner. Caesar skips onto the stage, grinning ear-to-ear telling a few jokes to warm up the audience but then quickly gets down to business.

Once her name is called, District 1's female tribute, Cherish Glaeser steps up onto the stage to join Caesar in the center. Her pink press is very provocative as it allows the entire audience and every citizen watching television – including many of the male tributes lined up – to gawk at her toned body with no hint of embarrassment on her face you can tell her mentor had no problem coming up with a angle for this tribute. With sleek black hair that shimmered like satin down her back and large coffee coloured eyes added to the tallness and natural sexual aura given off by this tribute, she is sexy all the way.

Each interview lasts only five minutes, then a buzzer is sounded, Caesar releases the tribute on stage before he announces the name of the next tribute and the process starts over again. I like Caesar for the main reason that he tries his best to make everyone shine in their own way, he is incredibly friendly, tries to set the nervous ones at ease once on stage, like the Capitol audience he laughs at terrible jokes and with the extraordinary ability to turn a weak response into a memorable one, simply by the way he acts. It is quite the hidden talent.

Within ten minutes, District 1 is over and done with and the tributes are escorted from backstage to their floor as they are not required to stay around unless they wish but really, who would want to stay in these outfits, despite how beautiful they are, for longer than necessary and I am sure that Cherish wants to put some clothes on. Much be colder than I think because she is looking a bit...well...perky, to say the least.

I do my best to stand like a lady but it hurts after a while but as soon as Iris Castillo name leaves Caesar Flickerman's lips, my body is suddenly hit with a wave of stiffness. Iris wonders out into the centre of the stage to greet the interviewer with a sweet smile, her stylists have made her wear a long silver dress that sparkles against the lights with her hair separated into two parts, top and bottom, the top is tied up to keep her hair out of view of her face allowing the entire nation to see how beautiful and deadly looking this fifteen-year-old is. Iris remains smiling as she answers the questions that Caesar asks, he compliments her on her training scores and she jokes about getting a higher score if her ribs didn't still hurt. I am filled with anger as Caesar asks how she feels about the games. "I cannot wait to get my hands dirty." she snarls masking her voice with a sweet tone. When the buzzer sounds signalling her time is up, Iris stands before saying to Caesar she will see him again when the Games are over. The entire crowd chuckles and roars at their opinions at the young girls confidence. I however am now eager to get on stage and outshine her, Iris Castillo will not be this years victor. When the girl walks passed her face is plastered with a smug grin and she makes deliberate eye contact with me, I roll my eyes showing her no interest. Iris doesn't get into the elevator, instead she waits for her district parter in the end room by the elevators.

My heart beat rings in my ears as Cato Ludwig is called into the stage. He looks as handsome as Garrett in a silver suit – keeping with the theme of Iris silver dress – which is dotted with jem designs that shimmer in the lights of the stage and a black shirt beneath which opened to bare some chest. Cato waves and roars with the crowd making them more excited as they leap to their feet at this tributes excitement, granted it is a brilliant idea to hype up the crowd. Unfortunately, he then turns back to that monstrous boy who lunged forward to volunteer from District 2. A ruthless killing machine, but the act is short lived when Caesar turns to question about his life in District 2.

"Cato, tell me, is there a special girl back home in District 2?" Caesar asks.

For a second Cato looks uncomfortable but he smiles, gathering himself up and shakes his head, "No, no special girl back in Two."

"No?" Caesar raises an eyebrow and turns back to the audience, "I don't believe it for a second, do you folks? Look at him! Handsome man like you." he gushes gesturing to Cato, the crowd roars and claps in reaction to Caesar's question, this makes Cato chuckle lightly and my chest tightens with sadness. All part of the act to gain my trust, of course.

Cato sighs heavily, "Well, I guess there is this one girl that I cannot seem to get out of my head since the reaping. She is beautiful and sweet but I doubt she knew about me until the reaping."

"Does she have another fellow?" asks Caesar.

Cato chuckles a little and shrugs, "No, she is quite a loner, keeps to herself so she doesn't get hurt."

"It is simple what you do next Cato. You win these Games and go home, she will not be able to turn you down!" Caesar chuckles loudly. "Isn't that right!?" he asks the audience very ecclesiastically. They respond in yells and screams. Cato laughs slightly before shaking his head but the buzzer sounds signalling the end to his interviewer and the audience sighs heavily and begins to become unsettled as they didn't get their answer that followed Cato's shaken head.

Nevertheless, Cato removes himself from the stage and the girl from District 3, Eva Holt is called onto the stage. My eyes are glued to the male, District 2 tribute as he walks passed me, my heart accelerates in my chest. Cato paused for a moment and looked me up and down admiring my outfit, he smiles to himself before pointing to the ceiling with his index finger before holding his hands up with ten fingers. _Roof, ten. _I didn't have a chance to ask what that mean't because Iris then steps in when she notices Cato walking passed, she grips his arm tenderly making my stomach knot with jealously. Garrett smiles at his fellow Career member as he rejoins me, informing me that Michael, Finnick and our prep-teams have now taken their seats in the audience and Dieter will be waiting at the end of the corridor by the elevators for us after the interview.

Within ten minutes, the District 3 pair Eva Holt and Lucas Hamilton have been interviewed and shown off to the nation of Panem and their angle are simple, the girl, Eva is elusive and the boy, Lucas is very intelligent, definitely want to look out for him in the arena, not because he is a physical threat but he might attempt something incredibly clever like the previous victor from District 3, Beetee Latier. My palms are sweating profoundly like they have their own water supply and when Caesar announces my name loud and clear, a thick faint feeling hits my body face-first. Garrett gives me a comforting rub on my shoulder as I step away from him and onto the stage.

_'Smile and wave' _Dieter's voice echoes in my mind. A gleaming smile is plastered across my face as the audience roars in applause and screaming my name. I wave to the audience like some kind of pageant contestant. I shake Caesar's outstretched hand and he goes an extra step forward to kiss my right cheek. We take our seats in the center of the stage before he begins the interview once the audience has calmed down enough to be spoken over.

"One of our favourite tributes!" Caesar gushes, "How are you tonight, Anastasia?"

As I stared at the pink haired man, my mouth has gone as dry as sawdust, "Well, Caesar, tonight I am very nervous." I reply truthfully in a clear voice.

A hush falls over the audience, "Why are you nervous?" Caesar asks leaning over to touch my hand to comfort me, I return his affection by squeezing his hand gently whilst letting out a chuckle.

"The Capitol is very different to home." I explain always smiling, the audience joins in with my laughter and after a second so does Caesar Flickerman, before he hushes the audience silent and turning to me with a somewhat serious look.

"Now, lets talk about your training score," he says before leaning back, "E-le-ven! Give us a hint what happened inside that room!" he demands.

Caesar's enthusiasm is hysterical and I raise my hands in a mocking surrender, "Every tribute is under a gag order, Caesar you must know that." but as he goes to interject him, I speak before he has the chance, "Lets just say, I gave it my best stab." I wink. The crowd laughs.

"Your best must have been brilliant. We have just met Cato and that boy is built for these Games, does this mean you are going to be part of the favourites Hunger Games, ruthless Career Pack this year?" Caesar asks.

I hesitate, before shaking my head receiving a gasp from the audience, District 4 not in the Career Pack seems unheard off and almost forbidden. "No, I refused either offer. Murderous, adrenaline teenagers don't really put me at ease, and I am very happy with my choice of allies." I tell him confidently.

"Interesting..." Caesar trails off in a pit of thought but quickly regain himself, "Anastasia, you are a very unique person aren't you, fierce and sweet." he then turns to the audience, "Ladies and Gentlemen, little do you folks recognise her but, we have seen little Anastasia before. Do you remember 80th Hunger Games? No? Well lets take a quick look." Caesar says in a calm voice as the audience erupts in conversations amongst friends.

I desperately scan the crowd for Michael as I know that the next minute will endure. Caesar gestures to the screen above the main stage as it fizzes to life and a reaping video appears. Dieter Rollo is stood at the podium, four years younger, the boy has been chosen and then the girl, and just as the reaping a week ago flashes in my mind. The odds should have been in my favour, one in thousands but against the odds, but the name chosen is mine. Twelve year old me has frozen solid but with the unwanted help from Peacekeepers, I am removed from the area at the back of the girls section and making my way to the front. "_I volunteer!" _a familiar voice yells creating another parting in the crowd of girls aged twelve-to-eighteen-years-old. My sister Maria pushes me back into my arms of twelve-year-old Leila Turner but she isn't strong enough and my brother, not yet a victor has scooped me up in his arms as Maria takes the stage herself. My sister volunteered and sacrificed her life to save mine. The screen shut off and the entire room is silent. Like the reaping, you could hear a pin drop in the eerie room. I meet Michaels eyes which are lined with tears but his face was hardened with anger. Fuck them! Fuck these Games!

"Does the loss of your sister drive you to win these Games?" Caesar asks.

I smile darkly, "Caesar, do you remember that I was dressed as for the Tribute Parade?" I ask him. The audience bellows out answers, goddess and princess were the majority of the answers and thankfully Caesar goes with an answer yelled by a audience member.

"A believe it was princess of the sea." Caesar smirks, pleased that he could remember that far backwards.

Smugness, the last piece of me is powered into my answer, "The next time we meet, Caesar Flickerman, as President Snow puts a crown on my head, I would have turned from a princess to a queen." I smirk with confidence. The crowd reacts in such happiness and excitement that their screams almost shake the foundations of the tribute living quarters. I have out shown Iris and completely satisfied with how I done it. Caesar Flickerman is up on his feet bouncing about the stage as the buzzer goes off. The crowd sighs but I stand up and shrug as if to say it was out of my control, which it is. I say one goodnight to the audience and nation of Panem making sure to wave with my hand with Leila's ring on so she can see I am wearing it.

Garrett holds up a hand before he walks passed me, I assume it is for a high-five so I slap my palm against his as he wanders onto the stage with confidence oozing out of every pour. Alden is stood uncomfortably with his sister, they both wear outfits with green tree bark looking material, for Jacqueline it was what completely made up her dress and for Alden it made the jacket of his tuxedo.

"Brilliant interview, Princess." he says as I pass, eyeing me up and down.

I chuckle, "Yes, well got to make an impression." I tell him before touching his arm, not in a tender or romantic way, I once read that human contact can reduce stress and touching another for ten-seconds will help you trust them more, "I will see you at the Cornucopia." I smile sadly.

Alden lets out a stiff chuckle, "I will be the tribute on the pedestal."

Cassandra is still waiting in line with ten tributes in front of her still waiting to go on, you can tell she is getting anxious as she bits her nails but her nervousness was masked by her unbelievable beautiful that radiated from her. The halter neck dress she wore was incredible, it was sleeveless and made from light and dark brown feathers, no doubt from several Pheasants. The dress stuck to her natural curves until it hit her knees where it splayed out. As I wonder passed she grips my arm and pulls me in for a dead-grip hug before whispering in my ear, "See you at the Cornucopia." I pull away and smile at her. Yes, at the cornucopia tomorrow. In a few hours. Two of the twenty-four tributes make up my allies. What if I cannot find them before the countdown? Or they die in the bloodbath, what if I die in the first five minutes?

Dieter is waiting by the elevator and greets me before flooding me with compliments, most on my walking, smiling and posture but also on how I handled the reaping footage. I allowed Dieter to clutch onto my hands as we watch Garrett's interview, he was funny and humble, exactly how he was naturally and the audience and Caesar Flickerman loved him and they dive into conversation. Garrett trades simply pieces of information with Caesar, feeding the Capitol people into being obsessed with him, craving to know more but Garrett was careful and kept what he kept close he didn't reveal. It was simple, give them enough to keep them just satisfied but always wanting more.

When Caesar and Garrett's time is up, the buzzer sounds and the District 5's female tribute, Kassie Blakley is called up as Garrett emerges through the door in front of the queue. Dieter gushes around him like he did me and we ride the elevator back to our floor. Dieter then orders for us to go and clean of the make up and change into something more comfortable because dinner will be served soon. I do not need to be told twice, I am off down the corridor and into my bedroom kicking off my shoes and they dangerously fly across the bedroom before almost ripping off my dress to stand in my knickers as I hang up the dress on the front of my wardrobe before changing into something comfortable: silk trousers and shirt in a deep blue colour with lace underwear.

Michael and Finnick do not return for dinner so I assume they are either with lovers or stayed behind to watch the rest of the interviews but we proceed with dinner despite the absence of our mentors. Tomorrow we will be in the arena and with that thought drowning mine and Garrett's minds, we are not much conversation to Dieter who looks sad. After dinner, Dieter suggests watching over the interviews as now they have all finished but she haven't missed much, Cassandra plays her angle as shy and cowardly and Alden remains humble yet confident but the audience loves them non the less. When the anthem finishes and the screen goes dead, the silence is deafening.

Tomorrow at dawn, we will be roused and prepared for the arena. The actual Games do not start until ten as most of the Capitol are late risers but Garrett and I must make an early start. There is no telling how far we will travel to the arena that has been prepared for this year's Games. It pains me that Dieter, Michael and Finnick will not be accompanying us for as soon as we leave here, they will be at the Games Headquarters, hopefully frantically signing sponsorship deals, working out a strategy on how and when to deliver the gifts to us. Vibia and Tiberius however will travel with us to the very spot from which we will be launched into the arena.

So, final goodbyes between mentors and tributes and escorts and tributes must be said here. Dieter stands up and I am the first to embrace him suddenly but he doesn't flinch nor push me away, instead he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. Did he do the same to my sister? Once he released me from his embrace, he does the same to Garrett then takes us both by the hand and wishes us all the luck in the world. Apologises for all the hand hitting during practise and then expresses how much of a privilege it has been to work with us. He kisses my forehead before hugging Garrett then dashing away to his living quarters. Leaving Garrett and I alone.

The loud noise of dance music sounds from outside, "Want to go check out the party? It is for us after all." I suggest pointing to the balcony just of the sitting area, we walked out and leaned over the edge of the railing as the streets are full with dance people and colourful lights. Garrett quints to make out the tiny figures below in lots more detail.

"Are they in fancy dress?" he asks.

I shrug, "Who the hell can tell?" I answer, "With all the crazy clothing these people wear."

Garrett laughs before staring out into the distance of the Capitol. As I stare at my district partner I wonder how the time in the arena will change him, is the sweet boy I knew from the train gone? Or will he remain like himself throughout the entire process only to come out the side untouched by the games but then attacked by the trauma? I turn to my district partner and ask him the most stupid questions aside from 'are you scared?'

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask him, turning back to look at the dancing buffoon's in the street turning my worried stare on them instead.

Garrett lets out a stiff solo chuckle, "That is like asking if a fish needs a bicycle." he turns to look at me and our gazes meet but mine is masked with confusion, where the hell did he get a fish needing a bicycle from my question, I raise an eyebrow at him daring him to explain further, "No, is the answer to that. You're my piece of home in the arena, Princess. I am more likely to help you than I am kill you." he says calmly and I am washed with stiff relief.

"What if it comes down to you and me?" I ask him turning to put my back to the Capitol scene. Garrett pushes off the railing to stand straight, towering over my like a giant whilst grinning that made him look freakishly like Finnick.

"Then I am going to see first-hand how you got an eleven and you are going to witness first-hand how I got nine." he says with a hint of sarcasm, but truly what he was saying was that if it came down to him and me, their wasn't going to be a discussion, a simply fight was to going to happen between us and one will die. That is how the Games work.

"Looking forward to it." I choke.

Garrett turns and grips my shoulders tightly, dragging me in for an equally awkward hug, "Good luck, Princess." he mumbles in my ear. I thank him and wish him to same amount of luck before he walked off to his bedroom and I do the same. It isn't even nine o'clock when I have crawled between my sheets. I have a fifty minutes, give or take but there was to be no sleeping tonight anyway, not just for me but any tribute, the Games are glooming too close. Fully dressed I keep between the silk covers, checking every ten minutes the clock on the bedside table, despite the alarm being set for ten to ten, I cannot even get one ounce of sleep, my mind keeps projecting images of exactly what terrain I will be thrown into tomorrow. A desert? Frozen wasteland? I am hoping for trees, maybe a woodland, good place to hide, good source of food and shelter. Water as well, but what will the climate be like? Living in District 4, heat is something I can live with as in the summer the temperature can reach 30 – 40 ºC but a few years ago the temperature set in the arena was so cold at night that many froze solid during the night, but will it rain? Or snow? These question fill me reluctantly with horrors.

All will be revealed in thirteen hours.


	17. Chapter 17: Our Last Night Together

Chapter Seventeen.

**Our Night Together.**

Neither Michael or Finnick had returned when I get up to leave, smoothing my hair down and attempting to flatten my crinkled clothing, I turn off the alarm before sneaking out of my bedroom being extra careful not to disturb Garrett who – no doubt – is laying awake staring at the ceiling or gawking out the window at the Capitol people parading through the streets. I cannot blame him for watching, it is fascinating how these people act to the upcoming slaughter of children but as soon as I enter the elevator, I do not turn away to look at the steal door that reflects my face, I push away the fact they are celebrating and watch the beautiful night lights of the Capitol become small and more grabbing as the elevator rises to the roof. My stomach knots in the most unpleasant way as this is like our last meeting, I wonder what the hell Cato could want this quick before the Games begin. What would possibly be good about this visit or was it him finally telling me the kiss and stupid cuddles was bullshit and meant nothing what I thought. Maybe this was his last insult to wind me up for the Game tomorrow, mess me up before the countdown. Weaken the competition. Maybe Iris is up there waiting along with the rest of the Career Pack, all ready to break me down as they laugh about how stupid I am, all trying to guess what those small glances that made my heart race meant, all those faint touches that sent electricity through me. Oh, I have no idea what I thought they mean. Cato spoke of a girl in his interview who was beautiful and sweet, I can only assume is Iris, she is beautiful but I haven't yet seen the sweet side, maybe that is the girl I will see last before I choke the life from her. Sweet, little Miss Iris Castillo.

Like always, the elevator ping's announcing my arrival to the rooftop but I don't find myself turning to the rooftop garden straight away, instead I study the Capitol horizon one last time whilst mustering all the strength I could from my nerve rattled body then turning sharply to face the conservatory and it feels like I have been hit with a brick wall of reality as I study the glass house, along the stone slabs at the bottom of the plant pots were small circular candles flickering in the darkness.

Forcing my legs to move forward through the conservatory, the electric doors opened to reveal the stone slab walkway was also lit with candles, my eyes trail along the stones taking in every detail. Why are their candles? As my feet scuff across the ground as I walk forwards, my eyes fall upon a pair of shiny black shoes, my eyes flick upwards to reveal Cato Ludwig's smiling face, he is wearing his interview suit but with an added accessory, yellow rose with red tips. I raise my eyebrow at him, to mask my bewilderment of what is happening but as I go to speak, asking what this was all about, he steps forward silencing me, handing me the rose before pulling out a thin piece of material from his pocket which turns out to be a black suit tie.

"Do you trust me?" he asks standing behind me and draping the tie across my eyes and tying a knot in the back. Now I am blind and completely at his mercy, trusting that he will not attempt to throw me over the side of the building.

"Should I?" I chuckle as a rush of movement glides passed me and my empty hand is taken in what I can guess is his and the wrist of my taken hand is gently clasped around. The holding of my hand and wrist is followed by the gentle tugging moving my reluctant body forward along the stone path, hoping and praying I will not accidentally stumble into one of the candles and set myself alight. My mind has turned to mush as he guides me forward mumbling gentle instructions, I assume to keep me out of harms way but I cannot be certain.

We are both silent and moving for a little less than a minute before Cato stops dead in front of me without warning so I walk into him awkwardly before trying to regain myself but a faint panic has set into the back of my mind as he turns me to face a certain direction. In the darkness behind the tie, my mind creates distorted images of the Career Pack, dressed in white shining against the darkness. Their faces smiling crookedly.

"Are you ready?" Cato asks, I feel another rush of movement gliding beside me.

I nod, unsure of what I am suppose to be ready for. Am I ready to face the Careers? Ready to be tormented. What am I suppose to be ready for?! But still, stupidly I nod anyway. My lungs roar for fresh oxygen as I hold my breath, my palms sweat as my fists clench and my knees wobble as I wait for Cato to remove the tie.

Around my head, I feel the tie become loose and then quickly and swiftly, the black material is ripped from my head to lighten my vision and even as I stare, I cannot one-hundred percent believe the images my brain was processing to me. In the first left garden, edged by glowing candles is a red-and-white blanket settled to the left is a woven picnic basket and glasses. What was all this for? I turn to Cato who is grinning with satisfaction.

"What is this for?" I ask, not defensively, just out of pure wonderment.

Cato laughs before walking around me, "Just figured, this will be our last night together, might as well make it special."

_What? _I ask silently, but still, I follow him to the picnic blanket and wait for him to tell be to sit down before I do it willingly, Cato pours and hands me a glass of what I suspect is orange juice, I smile nervously and sip at the liquid gentle.

"Your interview was very good." he tells me before sipping at the drink, "So, I am a murderous, adrenaline filled child?" he asks, in somewhat a mocking tone. I chuckle into my drink, "Beautiful and sweet must have been your disguise, if I had know you were going to say that I may have chosen my words more carefully." he jokes.

"Huh?" I ask. He meant me during his interview. _Me?!_

Cato looks at me dead in the eyes as embarrassment floods his face, "I thought you knew." he mumbles. I shake my head as a un-suppressible grin spreads across my face. "Oh wow, I feel like an idiot." Cato says with a chuckle. "You must thing I am a total weirdo."

"Not at all." I reply moving closer to bump shoulders with him, Cato chuckles, a real laugh that makes me tingle in the pit of my stomach, he puts his arm around me and I curl into his side.

"I'm sorry about your sister, it wasn't fair for Caesar to bring it up." he tells me after a minute or two of silence. My mind automatically flickers back to that moment, the rage in Michael eyes and the pain in my chest, the two image of the real event and the replayed one merge into one but from separate angles but with similarities, Michael having to be kept seated, the same drowning tone from Dieter Rollo and the younger and older faces formed into one distorted image. They brought that reaping video up to see if I was brave or easily annoyed, I am not sure which emotion they were trying to test but they, maybe intentional, hit rage and hatred. Cato looks down at me and I am embarrassed to say that I have tears lining my eyes. Maria was only fifteen, she was the smartest girl in her year, too much like a District 3 girl than a District 4 for everyone else's taste.

Cato's arm tightens around mine, pulling me in closer to him. "I'm sorry." I apologise wiping my eyes before the tears can escape, "You must think I am so weak." I choke out regathering myself in a humble mood but the pain still flickers.

"I don't think your weak, that is so stupid." he says kissing the top of my head causing me to look up at him.

Our eyes meet and we are silent, just for the tiny second, "What do you think I am?" I ask him, my voice is no more than a curious whisper, as even now, in the one place I would love to freeze and live in forever, I am scared the Gamemakers are listening and watching us but, my mind screams for me not to give two shits, and for once, I listen. Cato's fingertips gentle glide over pushing a small section of hair that has fallen from its obviously not fixed state, his fingers trace my jawline before placing his curled up index finger beneath my chin and his thumb in the centre.

"I think you are beautiful, and sweet, funny and truthful." Cato replies, his eyes flicker across my face as my eyes never leave the whites of his, I smile shyly at him about to do the natural impulse and deny everything he said good about me but then he speaks again, but this time it is a question instead of lies. "May I tell you what I do know for certain about you?"

I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him but my head finds itself nodding without me being aware because Cato's body goes ridged beside me, I react to his sudden awkwardness by sitting up straight myself, our bodies recoil not in a dislikeable way from each other, I shifted my upper body so we are face on properly. He doesn't make eye contact with me for a while as he stumbles over his words like a toddler stumbles over their feet during their first walk, in some ways it was adorable to watch but also kind of upsetting as they try so hard but do not succeed.

"I know, for certain, that you are...brave, stubborn and possibly slightly, depressed." he says truthfully with a shy grin.

My eyebrows shoot up and disappear into my hairline, not out of surprise or wonderment but out of tiny anger. _Depressed?! Me? _I realise awkwardly, "Wow, that is a lot that you know about me," I say sarcastically. "And, I am not depressed, just awake enough to see through the Capitol's bullshit oh-so-good intentions." I reply with a small smile to mask my annoyance.

Cato laughs whilst staring down but peaking up at me through those thick blonde lashes that line his eyes, "That just proves, you are stubborn." he mumbles, loud enough for me to hear. I sigh heavily before not sipping at my orange juice, I completely drain it from the glass before going to stand up, the night is running away and the Hunger Game's are closing in. There is no time to be staring into each others eyes, gently insulting each other breaking whatever ties we had. Not angrily, I place the glass down onto the grass before shuffling to my knees to stand, but Cato's large hand gently grips my forearm of my left arm, keeping me seated.

"Can I tell you the main thing I certain about you?" Cato continues on to ask. I turn to face him, my chest rises and falls rapidly as the cold air lashes above my head, keeping close to the ground was a smart idea, it is warmer by the ground. Should keep that in mind for the arena. I settle myself back on my bottom to be comfortable, preparing myself for the biggest kick in the balls.

"I am certain, that you, Anastasia, are the girl that I am, completely and totally, in love with." he says strongly.

Before I could ask, we are kissing, they are filled with passion and wanting. My hand finds itself around the back of his neck, gently tugging on the hair at the base. It is sudden and heart filled but it feels perfect. As his lips part and our kiss deepens, I begin to feel breathless in a way I doubt I will feel again, it is fascinating. As the party life of the Capitol people dwells on, so does our kiss but after a while, we have to pull apart, Cato's breathing is deep and mine is shallow. His icy blue eyes are closer to me than they have ever been, and I feel embarrassed to tickle his face with my breath.

"I'm sorry." I mumble, unsure of what I am suppose to be apologising for. Cato grips my face in his hands, his fingertips trace every feature of my face, lining my cheekbones, the bridge of my nose and along my lips. Cato's touch was feather like, nothing hard or rough about it, everything was soft and smooth, gentle and caring. Not the Cato I will know in the Arena. His fingers tremble against my skin, "Are you cold?" I ask concerned.

He nods, "Don't worry about me." I bring my face to meet his and greet him with a gentle kiss.

"Maybe we should go inside." I suggest with a desperate look in my eyes.

"We could go to my room?" he says, slightly embarrassed but I smile with hidden happiness and nod.

Packing up the blanket and glasses before getting into the elevator together and press the button for the second floor. I silently pray that as we pass the fourth floor, Michael or Finnick wont see us. I was sweaty and worried that I smelt but even so, I pulled him to me in the elevator, his arm snaked around my waist pulling me onto my tiptoes because I was too small to reach his lips with my feet flat.

My heart beat echoed in my ears as the pulse raged in my throat as we sneaked into the living quarters, thankfully Cato's bedroom was close and we didn't encounter Enobaria – Cato and Iris's mentor – she is famous not just for winning her games, but also because during her time in the Arena, she was no stranger to ripping other tributes throats out with her teeth. She later had her teeth altered into sharp points, like fangs, and also had them inlaid with gold, I guess to make them stronger.

The door is bolted to reduce the risk of others entering, and we crawl into the bed, Cato's strong arms pull me to sit on top of him as he gently kisses me, first on my lips, then my jaw and then, finally, my neck. He nips and pulls the skin gently on the pulse points. I gently remove his blazer and shirt to reveal the solid muscle of the chest before nipping and sucking at the skin over his collarbone which is glistening with light sweat. His body is relaxed beneath mine but there is something about the softness of his touch that makes me feel uneasy.

"Are you afraid to hurt me?" I ask him, my voice is lower than a whisper as I do not need to talk in a normal volume, we are so close. Cato shakes his head, looking down to study my still clothed body, his hands grip my shoulder and side firmly.

"Anastasia, are you sure you really want to do this? You're not going through with this out of fear?" he ask.

I roll my eyes in a playful manor as my teeth show between my lips, "Oh, get over yourself." I say before leaning in for another kiss, he takes my answer as I am not afraid. I'm not, it is now or never. His hands gently reached down to the hem of my silk shirt and he pulls it up over my head. Thank God I had decided to wear semi-nice underwear and bra set. Cato moves forward, our chests now touching which was a strange feeling, the softness of my breasts meeting the hardness of his pectorals. As I begin to pull away from our kiss, Cato catches my bottom lip between his teeth, more aggressively than any touch before and he releases a seductive growl from his throat that makes my stomach twitch with nerves. I hold my breath, stupidly, as Cato's fingers begin to fumble around the waistband of my silk trousers, but instead, he wraps his large arms around my waist, and quickly flips me from on top to bottom, I lay in his spot on the mattress with Cato positioned between my knees.

"You okay?" he asks me as his fingers grip around the inside of my trousers, I nod and he quickly slips the item of clothing from my legs, I feel rather awkward as he scans my body like Vibia had in our first meeting, my stomach is covered with a wobbly layer of fat and if my legs are put together, I have no thigh gap, but over the years, being a teenage girl with this stupid impression we are given, I certainly see now point in having a thigh gap but others do and I blame society for that.

"What?" I ask after thirty or so seconds of him just staring at me.

Cato Ludwig grins, "You're beautiful."

I try to hid my smile but I am unsuccessful, grabbing him by the back of the neck, I pull him onto me, our lips meet again for another passionate embrace. Cato's hands remain on my waist but they soon move as he struggles with the buckle of his belt, but with my eyes closed I do not recall anything specific about the removal of his trousers but I remember clearly the removal of my bra. One of Cato's hands were placed on the side of my face, his thumb gently teasing my lips, the tip of his thumb entered my mouth timidly only to received a gentle and playful bite. Cato removed his thumb from my mouth and replaced it with his bottom lip as I snag at it like he had mine, the tension around my chest was revealed as Cato's left hand replaced my bra clasp on my back.

Soon, the last layers of clothing were gone and we lay side by side, everything is covered with the sheets but Cato's hand rests on the inside of my thigh, his thumb gently rotating in warming circles. Before I loose my confidence, I turn onto my side and kiss him lighting on the shoulder, he removes his hand from my thigh and cups my face with it, with gently grazes, I coach him on top of me like before, his hips between my knees.

"You're ready?" he asks me.

I nod, "I've been ready for the last fifteen minutes." he looks embarrassed by the time he has left it, but I move to sit up and wrap my arms around his neck, our lips are close but not touching, our breath tickles each other and the smell of sweating bodies is strong but we do not complain. "I love you, Cato Ludwig." I whisper, his body relaxes completely as he hears me say it...and it is not a lie, nor a act of deceit, I mean it with every word.

Cato's touches are still feather light but not ticklish. "And, I you." he tells me, before his kisses roughen slightly but I expected them to get rougher but they do not, and for some reason maybe out of nerves and I begin to question I am disappointing him but Cato doesn't say anything, our breaths are short and shallow almost matching perfectly in some time. The training scoring tribute of ten touches me as if I am made of glass and fears to break me and as the time dwells on, the new experience becomes real and the whole affair was slightly the opposite of what I had figured it would be. There was a small protection problem but we soon sorted that one out as the Gamemaker must assume tributes have sexual desires during their final week of living and provide the necessary risk reducing object: a condom for the guy and a special pill for the girl, I assume that if for if the two decide against the boy protection. Cato was slow and in no rush, he was patient as I adjusted to him slowly asking me if I was okay every twenty seconds. Leila had told me it was painful, but I found it wasn't particularly painful at all, their was an uncomfortable couple of minutes but after it was okay. No headboards were broken and no pillows shredded releasing the stuffing and there was no ecstasy filled screams, simple a quivering groan from both of us.

Afterwards, Cato strokes his hand gently up and down my spine as he cradled me in his arms against his body, my ear pressed to his chest, listening to his lungs settle into a calming. His lips kiss the skin of my forehead, I roll over to check the time. Surprised to find it is only eleven thirty, I wriggle from his comforting grip and begin to pull on my clothing, starting with my underwear. As I clasp my bra around my chest, Cato turns over from his back to rest on his side.

"Are you leaving?" he asks.

I pull on my trousers before lacing on my shirt, "Yeah, should really try and get some sleep – because y'know...tomorrow..." I trail off knowing the end of my sentence was only going to bring gloom to the end of a beautiful time, Cato stands up and drags on his underwear before hooking his arms underneath mine and snaking them around my body before he diving his nose into the nape of my neck, drawing in my musty scent.

"Why did you refuse to join the Careers?" he asks me, his voice is mumbled, "Is it because of Iris?"

I smile and shrug, forcing his face from my neck, "Because I have my own allies, Iris isn't a problem."

"But I cannot protect you then." he whispers.

A sad grin creeps to my face and I cup his hands gently in his hands, "You don't need to protect me."

He nods, "Yes I do."

My gut twists as I shake my head, protection isn't what I want, "I'll be fine, and if you do see my face in the sky. You keep fighting, because you are the perfect victor but these Games don't deserve you." my eyes are lined with tears now and so are his, thankfully so I do not feel as much like a girl. Cato pulls me close onto a perfect embrace.

"I never thought, perfection existed, until you came into my life." he whispers, the base of his voice quivers along with the gentle tears that wet his face. Cato then pulls away from me, dries my tears with his thumb before kissing me gentle.

"I'll see you in a several hours." I say, still kissing him.

Cato smiles weakly before nodding, "Stay alive." he tells me.

"I plan too." I reply with a small amount of confidence, I wanted to mean it but truly the words seem hallow, every tribute will be planning to stay alive, except the ones who plan to die in the bloodbath, that sounds stupid but generally that is the best way to go, it would be quick and then you would avoid all tormenting feelings after, no hunger or fear, completely bliss.

"I love you." he tells me at the door, and I don't even have to think about saying it back, because I have stupidly fallen for him, but my mind sees the good as well as the bad. Dying in the presence of someone I love, seems a good way to go, in fact I wouldn't have it any other way, neither it is at home with my children or there in the arena with Cato. All I want is a hand to hold and a voice telling me it will all be okay. If I have one last wish. That is mine: a hand to hold and a gentle voice.

Cato and I kiss one last time at the elevator before it takes me from his grasp. We will all change in the Arena, I wonder how he will change.

******A/N: please review! Cato and Anastasia finally happened, all the mess is cleared up, but how will their time in the arena effect them? Also remember to favourite and follow if you are enjoying.**


	18. Chapter 18: Goodbye, My Brother

Chapter Eighteen.

**Late Night Advice and Final Goodbyes.**

Two floors up, little did I know that my brother would be waiting at the dinner table for me. My face remains blank of emotion as I entered but of course, my feet pull my body reluctantly over to my brother, the yellow and red tip rose given to me by Cato is pinched between my second and first finger, being careful of the thorns that sit on the steam. Michael looks at me with narrowed eyes, his lash line glisten with small oval tears, on the table in front of him I a glass which emits a rather sour, bitter smell.

"Should you really be up drinking at almost twelve o'clock at night?" I ask walking over to the table, Michael lets out a muffled laugh whilst shrugging, but still, he raises the glass to his lips and savours the bitter-sweet taste. My hand places the rose gently on the table before I pull out a chair and seat myself on it.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask.

Michael gulps the last of his alcoholic beverage, he nods drunkenly, "When the gong sounds, please keep clear of the bloodbath, get your allies and put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others. Be sure to find a source of water." he instructs, I do not tell him about the plan with Alden but Cassandra and I will not be close to any real action anyway. "Got it?"

I nod, "What about after that?" I ask.

Michael pours another two inches of a clear liquid into a glass, "Stay alive until the other twenty-three are dead."

"What if I am one of the twenty-three that die?" I ask. "Only one can get out."

My brother drowns his feelings in the alcoholic liquid, "And it's going to be you. Promise me, you will try!?" he says, his voice has elevated but I am certain he does not notice. His strong hands have gripped my wrist and unintentionally squeezing them, hard enough for me to feel the bone separate, I whimper in fake pain so he will release me.

"Of course, I will try." I tell him.

Suddenly, Michael lunges forward and wraps his arms around me tightly, ever since his games, Michael has never been big on bodily contact, I suppose it remains him of his kills being so close to someone as they die. For the first time, Michael has willingly hugged me, his body is not ridged or uninviting, instead it is exactly the opposite. His body is relaxed and very inviting, my arms wrap around him in a loving embrace and I hold my brother tightly without fear of a lash out. I am no stranger to calling Finnick for help, sprinting between houses in Victor's Village. Once I watched our neighbouring victor pin my brother to the floor and sit on top of his chest to keep him down and nipping his arms underneath his knees, if he is quietly shouting there is no need for a pillow but I have watched as Finnick holds a pillow to his mouth as my brother screams venomously names I do not recognise, but they are the same names he says in his sleep.

I pick up the rose from the table and show it to Michael, "If I do die in the arena, back in District 4, can I have these at my funeral service?"

Michael shakes his head firmly, "No, because you are coming home, alive."

"But if I don't." I insist, "Yellow with red tips."

My brother sighs heavily, "Fine, but you're not going to die there, okay?"

I sigh heavily, "Okay."

Michael dives in for one more hug, he kisses my cheek in a brotherly manor. "I love you Anastasia." he tells me softly. I grin sadly at my brother before returning the 'I love you', a phrase, personally I feel I have said a little too much within the period of several hours, but I don't care, this feels great and true in every sense. Then he releases me and I am told to attempt and get several hours sleep but I cannot see how that is possible but I do not argue.

"I'll see you in a few weeks." Michael calls, I don't reply.

Inside the bedroom, I remove my clothing, have a quick rise with water before changing my underwear and crawling in between the sheets. As I close my eyes, the arena flashes in the darkness, across the ground is splattered red blood and then the bodies begin to appear, first with Waylon, the boy from District 12, followed by Alden's, then Cassandra. As my subconscious body continues to walk along, the bodies continue to pile up, but then I notice a body beneath another that makes my heart fall to my stomach and bile climb my throat. It is me. Hovering over top of my blood soaked body is non other than Iris Castillo, as the young girl smiles sweetly down at me another tribute comes up behind her, smiling at the mess they have both made. It was Cato Ludwig. My body jolts from the doze and I sigh with anger, the countdown to the Games was going to be a long and torturous wait.


	19. Chapter 19: Let The Games Begin!

Chapter Nineteen.

**Let The 84th Hunger Games Begin!**

I spend the rest of the night slipping in and out of a doze as my mind begins to imagine horrid scenarios. I do not see my brother, Garrett or Finnick in the morning, instead Vibia comes for me at dawn. She orders me to put on a simple outfit to wear and guides me onto a separate roof over the other side of the building. My final dressing preparations will be done in the catacombs underneath the actual arena itself. A silver plated hovercraft appears out of thin air and lands several yards in front of us. Vibia and I are escorted into the craft by two Peacekeepers to be greeted by a woman in a white laboratory coat once we are put into a small room. The narrow faced woman is carrying a syringe with clear solution and long needle.

"Your left arm, Anastasia." the woman requests, I glance over at Vibia who gives me a gentle nod.

I raise my left arm timidly, "What is that?" I ask as the needle pricks my skin at the crook of my elbow.

"This is your tracker." the Capitol woman informs me. "The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it."

As the woman pulls the trigger on the syringe, the solution is pushed up into my body along with the Gamemakers tracker. A Avox girl enters and silently directs us to a panelled room where breakfast has been laid out. Despite the tension in my stomach, I do the smart thing and eat as much as I can, although non of the Capitol food leaves an impression on me, I am so nervous I could eat gravel. As I stare out of the window admiring the view as we sail across the cities skyline and then to the wilderness beyond the city limits, birds come to mind, this is what they see on a daily basics, only they're free and safe. The very opposite to me now. The ride lasts about an hour before the windows black out, suggesting either the weather took a turn for the worst, or we are nearing the arena.

The hovercraft lands and Vibia and I are directed to glass tube elevator which takes us down in a underground tunnel. Another Capitol member, this time male, he tells us the way to my destination and we follow the instructions carefully to my chamber for my preparation. In the Capitol, District1, 2 and 4, they call it the Launch Room, but in other districts, it is referred to as the Stockyard. The place animals go before slaughter. I struggle to keep my food down as I am ordered to shower and clean my teeth, Vibia put a solution in my hair, almost like gel but stronger and water proof to keep my hair flat against my skull and most importantly out of my face. My clothes arrive on a cart, each tribute is required to wear the same outfit, Vibia has no say in my outfit because they are specially designed for the arena, I slip on my underwear and sports bra before slipping on a pair of simple back cargo pants with a sturdy belt. Over top of my sports bra, I slip on a maroon v-neck top, it clings to my body like a second skin and a thin, hooded black jacket that falls to my thighs.

"The top is designed to be a second skin, it increases oxygen delivery to working muscles but it also keeps your body heat in and the jacket is made to reflect body heat, so expect some cold days and nights." Vibia tells me. The boots, worn over skin tight, masculine socks, are brilliant. Soft leather with a narrow flexible rubber sole. Good for running.

Vibia pulls out my golden bracelet from her pocket, she clamps it on around my wrist before pulling out a thin silver chain. I remove Leila's ring from my finger and Vibia slips the jewellery piece onto the chain before slipping it around my neck.

"I'm not allowed two tokens am I?" I ask.

Vibia shrugs before tucking the chained ring inside my t-shirt, "What the Gamemakers don't know, won't hurt them." she winks. She smooths down my shirt, "Now, move about and make sure everything is comfortable."

I walk, jump, run and spin around the room, swinging my arms about frantically. "Yes, it's fine. Fits perfectly."

Vibia chuckles before flattening down my hair once more, adding gel before turning her attention to my clothing, smoothing down the shoulders of my black overcoat, before sighing heavily as she studies me. "Then, there is nothing more to do but wait for your call." she says. We sit on the leather black sofa, I try to push against the impulse to bit my lip but my nervousness wins over and my mouth is soon tastes strongly of metallic blood.

The nervousness that twists my stomach is the same you experience in the waiting room of a doctors office. I could be dead, flat-out dead, in an hour. Possibly even less. My fingers pull up the sleeve of my black overcoat and obsessively trace over the strange tiny lump on my forearm where the woman injected the tracker, I press on it, even though it hurts; I press on it so hard a small bruise begins to form but it takes my mind off the nervousness rising in my gut.

"Do you want to talk?" Vibia asks. I look over to her and shake my head, my heart echoes in my chest as Vibia takes my hand with hers and we stay in silence until a pleasant masculine voice announces it's time to prepare for launch. I release a small whimper from my lungs as my breathing escalates, small ecstatic breaths enter and release my lungs before the oxygen can reach my bloodstream. I remain holding her hand as I step into a glass tube on a small risen platform with a metal plate bottom.

"Remember, keep out of the bloodbath, meet with your allies then run and find water." she says, "I'm not allowed to bet, unfortunately, but if I could, my money would be on you, Princess."

I smile nervously, "Really?"

"Really." says Vibia. She leans in and plants a gentle peck on my lips, "Good luck." she wishes to me and then the glass tube around me, breaking our hand holding, cutting her away from me. Then the light of the room is taken away from me.

Fifteen seconds, that is how long I am in the dark being pushed into the arena by the metal plate at my feet. A cold whip of wind and as I am exited from the pod onto my tribute podium, I am temporally blinded by the dazzling bright sunlight. The air is cold making my breaths turn to condensation but it is bearable, glancing around I see the other tributes checking out the surroundings but instead, I am looking for Cassandra and Alden. Garrett isn't beside me and neither is any of the District 5 or 6 tributes.

Then I notice them. Cassandra is four tributes to my right on a podium between who I recognise as District 6 female tribute Lisa Parr and District 1 male tribute Victor Parodi and Alden is the third from the end on my right, he is close to the Cornucopia but far from me and Cassandra. I try my best to silently get Alden's attention but it fails miserably. Then, as all the tributes have been risen to their podiums, several spaces to my left is District 12's male, he isn't even male, their boy tribute, Waylon, who looks frantically for his district partner. His breaths echo through the silence as he begins to panic.

I hear the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, as his voice booms around us all. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Eighty-fourth Hunger Games, begin!"

Sixty seconds is how long we are required to stand on our metal podiums before the sound of a gong releases us..._sixty...fifty-nine..._ but step off before the minute is up and the landmines surrounding the podiums will blow your legs off..._fifty-six...fifty-five._.. The Cornucopia, a giant shaped horn like a cone with a curled tail, the mouth is at least seven meters high and spilling over with the things that will give us life here in the arena: food, containers of water, weapons on silver racks for the picking, medicine, garments and fire starters..._fifty...forty-nine..._ The more valuable the item, the closer to the mouth of the Cornucopia it is. For example, two meters from my feet is a meter square plastic sheet that could be used in a downpour but I don't know its real purpose, but there, in the mouth is a tent pack that will protect a tribute from every kind of weather..._forty-five...forty-four..._if I had guts, I would go and attempt to fight the other twenty-three tributes for it but I swore not to. _Forty-three... forty-two... _We are on a flat piece of land, surrounding us are lines of thick trees and shrub bushes but to my left in the distance is a stone dam and around the outside of the arena is rocky terrain like mountains..._forty...thirty-nine..._ I know the Career Pack will gather all the left over supplies, as I scan the mouth of the Cornucopia, I notice a beautiful knife display in a leather roll up pocket, that is there for me!..._thirty-seven...thirty-six..._scanning the tribute, Alden catches my eyes and I gesture, using my head, to the trees to my left, he nods before narrowing his eyes to the Cornucopia. Cassandra is already staring at me, together we gesture to the woodland behind her..._thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight..._Iris falls into my eye line, she is leant forward and ready to pounce towards the Cornucopia. In the Capitol, I bet the betting room is filled with nervous gamblers biting their nails, wondering is their tributes are going to die..._twenty-six...twenty...five..._Cato is the last tribute I eye up, it is stupid but my mind is made with mushy scrambled egg and nothing seems to process probably. _Twenty-four... twenty-three..._He is paused in the perfect position like his district partner, he is ready to kill..._twenty...nineteen...eighteen... _survival packs are scattered in the meters to the Cornucopia, the closest one to me is four meters in front of me, roughly estimated but I can tell the tributes around me will try and grab it but with no weapons, I shouldn't fear them..._twelve...eleven...ten... _you can literally hear the citizens of the Capitol counting down from ten, their echoing voices ring in my ears along with my pulse that rages at my chest, temples and wrists. My knees have turned to jelly but I push my fear and replace it with anger, towards the Capitol people, towards the Gamemakers, towards Panem itself, I will not die, not now..._five...four..._the small boy from District 12 shakes uncontrollably, his cheeks are wet with tears. I wonder how many of the Capitol people are betting he dies in the bloodbath..._three...ready, _I breath deep..._two...set..._lean forward and bend my knees..._one...go.._. the gong sounds, the landmines are disabled and the tributes are free.

The 84th Annual Hunger Games, have officially begun.

* * *

******A/N: There it is, Part I is completed with but now it is onto Part II: The Games. I really hope you all have enjoyed the running up chapters to the beginning of the Games, but there still are more interesting and heart breaking events to come and I sincerely hope you guys will continue on reading and following Anastasia through the Games – Please follow or favourite, but make sure you review!**

******I wont be uploading the second part of the story until I have finished writing half of the chapters so I can write and upload to keep up, still I really hope you all will continue on reading and review because it really helps and makes me smile knowing you all enjoy my writing and Anastasia's story.**

******See you all in a few weeks!**

******Valerie Argent.16.**


	20. Chapter 20: The Bloodbath

Chapter Twenty.

**PART II: THE GAMES.**

**The Bloodbath.**

Without delay, once the gong releases us, I lung from the podium onto the grass covered playing-field to sprint with everything my body has to offer, along with the other tribute to the survival pack calling my name. The tribute that stood ready on the podium beside me is slightly ahead of me but only by a small meter or so but as she – I can tell it is a girl by the neatly plated braid that falls down her back – lunges for the pack, I throw myself onto her back dragging her down into the solid dirt with my weight. The tribute doesn't want to go without a fight and trashes beneath me in an attempt to get me off her back but my hands hold on tightly, ignoring the painful strikes to my ribcage and sides as the child beneath me throws their elbows back defensively to hit me.

Growling like a predatory animal, I make sure to dig my elbows and knees into the soft spots along the tributes body as I move up the girls back to snatch the survival pack from the persons fighting hands, scrambling to my feet as I quickly glance round to make sure no other tribute is stalking towards me for attack. Fumbling to my feet, I create a death grip around one of the fabric straps but this child wasn't giving up and begins to get to her knees in order to stand, to stop her, I evilly stamp on the girls wrist causing the fragile bones to break beneath the force, my eyes flicker down to study the pain filled tribute to see that the young girl is the female tribute from District 8, or I assume she is. As a cry of pure pain echoes from her lungs and she releases the pack knocking me off balance but I manage to contain myself. I throw the straps over my shoulders before sprinting through a small section of the field where there isn't fighting tributes.

A short and distant voice calls my name, not in pain or anger but with a hint of wanting. The call grabs my attention and the origin comes from the direction I am running in anyway so I continue in though the tree-line when a hand grips my arm. The scenery in front of my eyes is blurred with unused adrenaline and terror strikes through me as I think it is another tribute but when the person reveals them self to be Cassandra hidden in a green and brown shrub. My heartbeat doesn't calm down but I feel slightly calmer knowing she is safe, tucked underneath her left arm, Cassandra clings onto a survival pack and like I, she looks out of breath.

We don't talk, instead we turn to survey the field, about a dozen or so tributes are hacking away at one another at the horns mouth, my breathing trembles when I watch the boy from District 3 attempt to attack Alden with a short blade, but my ally disarms the boy and rolls him the younger and much skinnier tribute over his shoulders to remove him from Alden's way. Several tributes lie die already, the others who have avoided the fight like Cassandra and myself have already fled the field but judging by the crowd whirling around the field in front of me, that isn't many. During the bloodbath, the Gamemakers don't bother with the death-signalling cannons, there is too much going on for the tributes and citizens of Panem to keep track and too crowded for the Gamemakers to keep track of the fallen, so all that fills the air of the arena are dying noises, pleas and shouts for help that will not be given. When the bloodbath ends, the bodies will be collected and counted, then the cannons will start and later, we in the arena will see the fallen faces in the sky so we can process who is alive and a threat.

_Cato? Cato! _He enters my mind before I can stop, on top of my shoulders my eager head turns frantically to lean in closer to study the image of the battle taking place in the mouth of the Cornucopia, sliver weapons flash in the mild sunlight along with the odd arm or leg fending off predators. Blood, lots of it, the red liquid is splashed like a artist masterpiece over boxes and weapons not to mention several of the tributes, cuts to the face and throat decorate the visible skin but others have no visible wounds, but by their stillness, they are dead or very good at pretending.

As the body of a black haired tribute falls, another body is revealed, the killer. And it's Cato, clutched in his right have is a medium sized sword whose silver blade is now coated on the dead tributes blood. It is almost my stomach is threatening to break from my body if I don't turn away, begging me not to destroy myself before the Games truly begin.

"Danette!" a high-pitched voice scream shattered through my body, moving quickly I remove my head from the line of Cato and rush to the tree-line three meters in front of me to look through another shrub masking my body with the nature to see a dark-skinned female tribute from District 11 holding a medium sized blade with a black plastic handle, the silver blade of the weapon is coated with red blood from what I suspect will be her first kill. Stupidly, my eyes move from the attack to the victim who was cowering away from her, turns out to be the small boy from District 12, Waylon Marsden.

Frantically my hands fumble to search through my survival pack, praying to find a weapon but I have nothing. I consider staying out and looking away, allowing fate to take its place but without thinking, my mouth has ordered Cassandra to take my survival pack before I remove myself from the safety of my shrub to sprint off in the direction of the girl. She notices me but is too late reacting, I throw my arms around her middle, avoiding any swing of her arms and knock both her and I to the ground, the blade she handled has fallen to the floor a meter or so from us. The girl throws a strong fist that makes bone breaking contact with my face but thankfully she hasn't hit anything vital and simply broken the skin on the left side of my face. I return the punch, splitting my knuckle to the bone on her front teeth as fresh adrenaline pumps through me. I retract my fist from her mouth and punch her again before the girl has a chance to recover from the previous hit, the bone of her nose breaks beneath my knuckles. She trashes violently beneath me as she begins to choke on her own blood as her wounds begin to bleed.

Then I hear a distance shout echo from across the field. The Career Pack. I begin to panic as dangerous amounts of adrenaline floods through me, snatching control of my limbs and suddenly I am grappling towards the blade, the girl straddles the middle of my body so I am face down in the dirt but she leaves a small space allowing me to turn to face upwards. The female tribute knows I have the weapon and punches me several times in the ribs and face but before she can do any real damage to my face with her fists, my hand is wet, warm and sticky and the girl on top of me has gone ridged. As one last insult, she then coughs splattering my face with blood. I stagger backwards from beneath her body with the blade still clutched in my hand, my thumb and first finger along with the side of my wrist are coated in fresh blood, repulsed by the spray and sudden warmth in the cold temperature. The tributes body falls limp, then slips face first into the dirt.

A cannon doesn't sound out loud in the open of course, but it does inside my head. This innocent girl is now dead. My brother, Leila, teacher, fishing crew; the entire nation of Panem including this young girls family, friends, everyone who knew this girl had just watched me kill her. I even care about what my bitch of a mother just saw. I killer her, however I decide now is no time to be sentimental, if I don't move I will end up like her in a matter of minutes. The boy from District 12 is still scrambling from us and has managed to clear a far few meters but my mind doesn't process his fear, there is still flighting going on around us and hopefully no other tribute aside from him and maybe Cassandra saw me kill this innocent tribute. I cut the survival pack from the dead tributes back, seeing as she will no longer have a use for it but Alden will. The blade turns out to be a Gerber make, similar to the one Louis owns back in District 4, so I bend the blade into the handle so I don't need to fear accidental stabbing and slip the blade into a zip up pocket whilst running over to the boy, to Waylon.

As I jog towards the District 12 male tribute, I notice that laying with her face pointing upwards was his district partner, Danette, lining her lips was now dry blood and her pale grey eyes are wide open staring up at the sky, but she is dead. That was who he was calling to help. Did he know she was dead? He must have know, there are no signs she is alive, her chest is flat and her eyes completely lifeless.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." I tell him not expecting him to trust me, but he does and allows my arms to scoop around the boy so I can remove him from the ground to carry him securely during my run back to the tree-line. Cassandra is appalled by my blood covered right hand and streaked face along with my cut cheek but she doesn't question it when she sees why I have done it but truthfully, I am unsure of why I have done it. Was my actions in return for my previous mistake?

Save one life or the other I have taken.

"You lovely ladies all right?" a masculine voice asks as the rustling echoes from the full bushes, for a second I am terrified it is another tribute and ready to pounce for the second time, until I remember it is Alden. His large eyes widen when fallen upon me. "Are you injured?" he asks transferring some metal objects to Cassandra's arms to pat my down and studies my hand, blissfully unaware of the boy I am carrying. Alden, in a motherly manor, attempts to wipe the blood from my face with his sleeve before prodding my probably broken nose and cut face making me hiss through the pain.

Jerking my head away from his hands, I playfully whack his hands away from my face. "Most of it isn't my blood." I tell him throwing terribly the survival pack I had stolen from the District 11 girl at him. Alden's face smiles but retracts as he studies the young boy from District 12 who is still laid in my arms like a toddler.

"Why have you brought him?" Alden asks, almost in disgust at the weaker tribute.

Looking down, I feel rather stupid. "I wasn't going to let him die there, he is too young," I argue back.

Alden raises an eyebrow at my intentions, but I fear that wont be the end to his questioning, but for now he is done. "He's your baggage, Four. Don't fall behind."

"I won't." I grin reassuringly, shuffling Waylon's body further up my arms and hold him tighter, then we leave our hiding place in the lining of the trees as many of the other tributes are still fighting. Alden suggests getting to higher ground so we all head towards the rocky terrain of the outside of the arena in front of us.

We continue to run through the thick trees that are laced with a thin layer of ice, the ground beneath our leather boots is crunchy like cake icing despite it being made from dirt. I keep a sharp eye out for water, the ice on the trees is too thin to be useful but I guess it would do but until we stop so we all can search our survival packs for a water bottle, I don't have anything to hold it in. I keep an eye out for anything that could do with the life saving liquid other than ice, a river, small puddle or maybe even a water fall but nothing comes to view. We alternate between jogging and walking but never stopping as we need to put as much distance between us and the other competitors as possible. Non of us stop to examine the contents of our pack, however we do pause occasionally to check for pursuers.

As we pause, I spit on the clean sleeve of my jacket before wiping my face, not completely free of blood but enough so I am recognisable to Panem because we are probably on-screen right now. Not constantly but on and off as there are so many deaths to show on the first day that a tribute trekking through the icy woodland isn't very interesting. They'll show snippets of the living tributes so people will know they are alive, however three tributes carrying an extra who is injured following the previous events, we might be a little more interesting to the audience. The opening day is the heaviest day of betting when the death list begins to come in and people realise where they have lost or made money.

After going straight for an hour or so, we turn left to cut across the intentional arena to where the tree ling begins to fray and the rocks begin to form into a steep slope. Alden goes first and Cassandra goes last with myself and Waylon in the middle, the rocks are ridged and sharp with Waylon in my arms I am slightly unbalanced but I keep myself upright as we scale through the layers of yellow rocks. The sun doesn't warm up the atmosphere but as it reaches its highest point and at midday, that is when the cannons begin to sound.

_One... two... _Each shot represents a dead tribute, this means the fighting must have finally stopped at the Cornucopia as they never collect the bodies from the bloodbath until the killers have fled. _Four... five... _My blood covered hand which is hidden in the trouser cloth of the young boy whom I carry, twitches every time a cannon sounds, she is dead. S_ix... _s_even... _We all pause, slightly panting with faint sweat trailing from our faces as we stop to count the shots. _Nine... ten... _Then the cannons stop and the birds begin to sing again. Ten dead in all, fourteen left to play in this twisted game of hide and seek. I wonder if the girl from District 8 is dead, with a broken wrist she certainly hasn't got any advantage and wouldn't be able to fight anyone off.

As we turn to continue walking up the rocking surface, my mind wonders back to Garrett Larkin, has he lasted through the bloodbath? Surly with the protection of the Careers he would have survived, or did they turn on him and kill him on the field? Did one of those cannons belong to him? I guess I will discover whether or not he is alive in a few hours when night falls because that is when the Gamemakers will project the dead tributes images into the sky for the rest of us to see. All of a sudden, I am really hit with the full force that Garrett may have been already lost. Bled white, collected and in the process of being transported back to the Capitol to be cleaned up, made all pretty again before re-dressed and shipped back to District 4 in a wooden box. No longer here in the arena, no longer in the world but heading home. Maybe it's better, if Garrett is already gone meaning that neither him or I will have the unpleasant task of attempting to kill each other. Maybe – possibly – it is better he is out of this for good.

I wonder how Alden feels, does he wish that his sister was lost already, taken out of the game in the bloodbath. To save them both the fate that they may have to fight each other, maybe even kill one another but I don't ask him, that would be a rather uncomfortable conversation for him and I wouldn't feel right about it. Alden and Jacqueline's relationship seemed questionable.

"We can rest here." Alden says gesturing to a tiny cave like area hidden in the mist of the rocks, here we have a good advantage point and we can look over the trees below and near the dam. I lay Waylon just inside the save which closer up is even smaller, big enough for two to lay down comfortably but three with a struggle but with four, that means we can rotate watches every couple of hours during the night and morning.

My legs tremble and my back muscles are tight as I slump down next to the cave, my back against the rock face so I can look up the not so visible pathway that leads to our location. We then examine the content of our survival packs. Within mine I have one thin yellow sleeping bag made out of the same material as my jacket but with a added pads so it is comfortable. A packet of dry crackers, a small packet of beef strips that look passed their sell-by date, a bottle of iodine, fire creating matches are protected inside a small two inch metal tube, a long rope, bandages and a two-litre plastic bottle with a strange filter strip that rises and falls with movement but no water. How hard would it have been to fill up the bottle?

"Hey – Anastasia." a feminine voice says quietly leaning over the body of the small child, he moans with pain and clutches his stomach with his dirt covered hands. I wriggle passed Alden who is searching through his pack and move into the cave beside Cassandra who has emptied the content of her survival pack onto the floor like a sloppy teenager. Her long length of bandage is ripped and she turns her attention to breaking the seal of the lid on top of her bottle of iodine.

I studied Waylon carefully, he doesn't look very good but I doubt any of us look particularly Capitol standard now, but he looks worse than he did when I saw his reaping video. Sweating and covered in dirt. "How long does he have?" I ask, my voice strained with confusion, yes I knew he was injured but he is deteriorating quickly. Far quicker than I expected, his face is paler than usual and his eyes are heavily set in their sockets.

"The blade pieced through his stomach, and possibly nicked his intestines." Cassandra explains coating her long strips of bandage into the iodine solution.

"What will happen to him?" I ask, stupidly.

Cassandra raises a eyebrow at me, "An infection will start as his body waste leaking into his body, soon the fever will settle in and then..." she trails off wrapping the wet fabric strip around Waylon's middle covering the wound making the little boy hiss.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why she trailed off into silence, but there was something about her voice that made the whole thing seems much realer and strangely more calming. That is a quality she should hang onto, the ability to calm people down using her voice. Cassandra sighs, pulling down the ripped and blood soaked t-shirt over the strips of bandages.

"He will die." the masculine voice of Alden says harshly from outside the cave. "A lot slower and more painfuller than he would have if you had just let him die in the bloodbath." he tells me. Guilt strikes my chest like a punch as I begin to realise my mistake. Maybe I should have left him there to die, it would have been better for him, dying without a thought but when what would that have proved? Not a single tribute in these games has a conscience or cares for another living being?

I am angered by Alden's comments but I keep my feelings to myself as the last thing any of want is a fight between allies and lets face it, without Cassandra's medical knowledge and Alden's protective abilities, I wouldn't last very long on my own. So in order to keep the peace amongst the alliance I helped create, my lips remained sealed.

The three of us leave Waylon inside the cave and move to sit outside the entrance, the oddly shaped rock formations around us help to create a natural barrier against the icy wind blowing up the rock face and it also keeps us slightly hidden from the other tribute who have survived or fled the bloodbath.

"Cassandra," Alden says with a sly smile holding his hands behind his back, "Close your eyes." he orders softly, surprisingly the young tribute follows his orders and closes her eyes with no fear. I watch like a hawk as Alden removes a beautiful blade from behind his back, it's a fine one with a long sharp blade, serrated near the handle which will be for sawing through materials such as tree branches to make firewood and it'll be useful in a fight as it looks light. Alden then tells Cassandra to open her eyes so she can study the blade he had managed to snag from the Cornucopia for her. Of course, she smiles and gushes happily like a teenager on their birthday, she slips the knife into her belt before thanking him with a few gentle words and a comforting shoulder touch. Something that was strange now in these moments, bodily contact now would be assigned to fighting, the only time you would touch another tribute is when you are trying to kill them, but here with Alden and Cassandra, I feel bodily contact can be something of a comforting nature and not deadly.

Alden turns to snag something amongst the metal objects, the sound of metal clinking sparks hope in my chest that maybe he was successful in getting me a weapon, I wasn't overly fazed if he didn't manage to grab me throwing knives. He turns to me with the same expression he displayed with Cassandra, only sightly more pleased with himself. I am given the same set of instructions and I follow, a little more reluctantly than Cassandra but even if I am sightly more cowardly, I must show trust in my allies. With my eyes closed and my hands open, my breathing becomes even as behind my lids I see District 4, home. My father walks barefoot on the hot summer sand with a small girl holding his hand above her head, her brown locks curl like a dolls underneath her chin and her deep sea green eyes copy the water before them. My perfect vision of home is destroyed by the rough fabric surface beneath my fingertips.

"Open your eyes." Alden orders and I do to discover that in my hands is a sturdy, well made throwing knife holster designed specially to wrap around the upper tight with a strap that is suppose to slip around your belt to keep it secure. I open the folded holster to see half-dozen throwing knives nestled neatly into specific pockets with thin velcro straps keeping the handles pressed against the back of the holster to make sure the blade doesn't slip out during struggles, running or fights. I cannot help but smile as I remove one of the six throwing knives from its pocket and study it, the blades are straight edged and in long spade shapes with slightly smaller handles laced with shoelace like fabric so the thrower can keep a firm grip with a hollow metal circle on the top of the handle which I am not sure what the use for it is but I'm sure I will eventually figure it out.

"Its brilliant, thank you." I smile standing up to secure the holster around my right led before removing my belt slightly to slip the loop around my belt before refastening it back up at the front.

Alden chuckles, "You better like it, I had to wrestle that bitch from District 2 for them." he tells me before removing a silver plated metal battleaxe from behind him around to the front and resting the weapon across his thighs with the blade resting against the uneven stone floor beneath us.

"Iris? Don't suppose you killer her?" I ask with a little touch of deliberate humour lacing my voice. Alden sees the funny side and Cassandra manages to let out a small muffled laugh but I can tell she is worried about the other tributes, we all are. Are they near by listening? Or are they waiting for nightfall to attack us?

Alden shakes his head, "No, I didn't, too many Career Tributes around."

My shoulders roll forward whilst I screw up my face to show my emotionless expression from this rather unfortunate turns of events. Iris was still alive and I know Cato is as well. "Good, because Iris is mine." I tell him sternly.

We sit in a line, separated by worry as we over look the arena. Small birds hover in groups over patches of the trees below. The air is cold as our breath is projected from our mouths and nostrils like fire from a dragon which reminds me of the morning before the reaping when I sat on the boat near the harbour, I push home away from my mind as the sky slowly begins to get darker and at twilight, Alden and myself decide to take first watch. Cassandra crawls into her own sleeping bag next to Waylon whom I have put in the sleeping bag from my own survival pack. In a few hours, Cassandra will swap with either Alden or I and take watch. We will continue this for the entire night, two on-guard, whilst one sleeps.

Water is my main priority as for a few days, we will be able to function with unpleasant symptoms of dehydration but after that, we'll all worsen into helplessness and be dead in a week, tops. But I am hungry too but I darent break into either of my packets of food yet as I person can go a surprising amount of time without food as long as they have water but considering I have neither, panic does lace through me. Tomorrow morning, water is my first priority, there has to be some water in this stupid arena, all we have to do is find it.

* * *

**A/N: I've missed you! Well, there it is, the start to part II of my Hunger Games fan-fiction. I hope you all have enjoyed it and make sure you review what you all think. Also make sure to follow and favourite if you are in fact enjoying this story. Until next time...**


	21. Chapter 21 The Night Watch

Chapter Twenty-One.

**The Night Watch.**

As the darkness crowds in and the night time creatures come out to play, I am suddenly grateful we picked a spot higher up as the last thing I want is to be fighting a night predator that stupidly thinks I am a oversized hare or rabbit. Alden jumps at the occasional hoot or howl, the clobbering of hooves captures my attention, looking down in the thin trees at the bottom of the rocky mountain to see a small deer, maybe a muntjac deer as it isn't big enough to be a fully sized deer but if it is a baby, that means there are parents near by, huge deer's with body piercing antlers. Something else to look out for because they have been known to attack humans if they're startled or people get too close to their children. But if they are prey to me and the other tributes, that means there are bigger and more deadly predators out there that they are food for as well.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask Alden after I am certain Cassandra is asleep, her gentle snores match Waylon's in a strangely comforting manor. Alden turns to look at me for a second, his lips are tinted blue as the cold has gathered around us, like me, his jacket is zipped up to his throat and his hood up over his head, only difference is that Alden has tucked himself in his black sleeping bag, mine is preoccupied with Waylon's body.

Alden smiles but it is faint. "I'm thinking about Jacqueline." he reveals to me, staring up at the sky. He is waiting for the anthem to start so he can process the pictures in his mind and looks for his sister. Edging closer I sit myself next to him praying a little body heat would maybe put me more at ease.

"Were you two close?" I ask.

He shrugs, "When Jacqueline and I were born, we were suppose to be triples but our brother died in childbirth. Mum always used to say '_two's a company but three is a crowd' _so Jacqueline and I grew up as best friends until we were about nine or ten when our father explained the Hunger Games to us and how when we turned twelve, we would have to go to the square like all the other children and if our name was called, we would have to fight like the children we watch on the television every year. Jacqueline became terrified and we became distant." he tells me in a voice which merely matches a whisper, "Now, I realise why my mother wasn't upset whenever we asked about our brother, it was because that was one less child she may have to loose to the Games."

My heart leaps to my throat as Alden stares back up at the sky instead of his hands, waiting for the anthem. I regret asking about the touchy subject and as I follow his stare back into the sky, I feel that it is best not to ask him any further questions, not about his sister or family because unlike any other parent in Panem. Alden and Jacqueline Calevi's mother will have to deal with two deaths instead of one. If they both die in this arena, their mother will become childless. Unless one can get out alive, personally between the two siblings. I hope it is Alden.

"What about you?" Alden's shaking voice asked after a minute or two of awkward silence.

I turn my attention from the starry sky to look at my fellow ally with a wondering expression, "What about me?" I ask.

Alden rolls his eyes at me, "Are you and your brother close?" he asks clearing up what he was questioning me about.

I bite my lower lip and chuckle awkwardly before replying with a shrug mixed with a nod, "Circumstances have made us closer than many people would think. To me, he is the only family I have left." I reply truthfully, if Michael was watching and listening, he should know the depth of my love for him and how I see him as both a mother and a father figure to me.

"What about your mother and father?" Alden asks.

Unintentional sadness washes over me, "My father's dead." I tell him. Suddenly anger hits me like a fist, "My mother, is not a mother, when Michael came back from the Capitol after his Games, like every other victor, he was scarred and haunted by what he had to do to survive in the arena and the lives he had to take to save his own." I pause to collect myself, "My mother couldn't understand why he wanted distance from us all to gather himself but I think him becoming a victor allowed him and me to escape from her. It had only been a year since we lost our sister then having to watch my brother go the reaping, hearing that echo of our last name in the silence." I am surprised to find that Alden is still listening to me, "But mum had a new partner by then and wanted to start fresh and she left us behind." glancing upwards, I sincerely hope the cameras are on us and she is listening to this, "She traded the old and broken family for a new and shiny one without any second thoughts because she wouldn't handle it. Michael became a murder, haunted by the faces of those tributes he had to kill and I was terrified about hearing my name called, watching my sister die because of me and not having a father to depend on and _she _couldn't handle it." I chuckle sadly.

"I'm sorry." Alden say softly.

Embarrassment floods me and I cradle my head in my hands with a smile, "Oh God, I'm sorry for rambling." I apologise.

Alden chuckles, "It's okay, really. Did you ever tell her about these feelings and thoughts?"

I smile through my embarrassment and pain but I am crumpling like old paper, "No, I didn't have the guts to tell her how I really feel when she first left because now my body is filled with all this useless anger towards her and I have no way to get rid of it now. Unless I can win and go home but come on, might as well be realistic." my words pour out like hopeless pleas, Alden who is still listening, unexpectedly drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently into him, the warmth is perfect and relaxing.

"Listen Anastasia, in here you don't fight for your loved ones or the people you hate. You fight for yourself but most importantly remember to use everything you have against your mother to ensure that you get home because then you are immune to her and you know what you have proved to her?" he asks me.

I shake my head, completely unknowing.

Alden smiles, his arm tightens around me, "You have proved her worst fear, that you don't need her anymore. That you can fight and survive without her." he tell me sternly.

A smile creeps across my face, knowing he is right sparks a small fire in my chest but just as a small light cracks through our depressing conversation, it is almost as if the Gamemakers were watching and waiting for us to finish just to stamp us back into place, to remind us of where we are and why, because the sky burns with the Panem symbol and the anthem begins.

* * *

**A/N: It's short, I know, sorry. Please review anyway!**


	22. Chapter 22: The Anthem and First Night

Chapter Twenty-Two.

**The Anthem And Our First Night In The Arena.**

The anthem goes on for a minute maximum before the seal of the Capitol disappears as the anthem fades out and the sky returns to its night-time black. I know that at home we would be watching a full coverage of each and every kill, seeing the victim and the tributes killer, personally I feel that is an unfair advantage to the living tributes. For example, me killing the girl to save Waylon is a secret to me and whatever other tributes saw, so Waylon and possibly Cassandra but outside the arena to the entire nation of Panem, my secret would be revealed to all. To the tributes family and friends but also mine. But thankfully, in the arena all we see of the fallen tributes are the same photographs they showed when they televised our training scores, simple head shots and now instead of scores they post only our district numbers, they don't even care enough to put our names. Alden and I draw in a collect breath as the faces of the ten dead tributes begin to be projected in the sky, to be sure I had counted the cannons correctly earlier, I tick them off one by one on my fingers.

The first to appear is the male from District 3, meaning that the Career Tributes from District's 1 and 2 have survived but across the arena I doubt there is any surprise, but I am relieved, Cato is still alive. The next face to appear is the sky is the female from District 5, meaning that Garrett had too survived the bloodbath, which I am happy about. Both tributes from 6. Jacqueline's face doesn't appear in the sky and Alden's body relaxed from beside me. The boy from District 8 fills the next space meaning the girls wrist I had broken is still alive somewhere in the arena. The female from District 9. The boy from 10. Next up is District 11, the male tributes face flashes up the sky first, shortly followed by the female tribute, my face tenses as sour bile climbs up my throat as I lock eyes with the image, and I am thankfully when the tributes face disappears but sadly to be replaced by District 12's female tribute, Danette.

That's it. The Capitol symbol follows the tributes farewell with a final musical flourish, then the darkness and the sounds of the icy woodland resume. My piece of home – Garrett – is still alive which is a plus for District 4 but I do dread the face we could come face-to-face at any moment in this arena, but will he make good on his promise? He we aren't the last ones, will he let me aside and not kill me? Or will he turn on me. Thankfully Cato is still alive, but unfortunately so is Iris Castillo but there is still time to change that.

Ten dead but who is left to play, there is fourteen tributes left in the arena, take away our alliance group plus Waylon, that is ten we are not friendly with. Six Career's made up of both tributes from District 1 and 2 along with Garrett and Jacqueline. The female from District 8 whose wrist I broke, her name escapes me, so does the identity of the female tribute from District 3 and Cedric – the boy who volunteered for his brother – from District 9.

Mine and Alden's watch lasts two maybe three hours before we wake Cassandra quietly, she doesn't grumble at the horrid waking site of zombified Alden and myself. Despite insisting, Alden refuses to takes Cassandra's place in the sleep bag and get a few hours sleep, he instead tells me to hit the hay. I do not need to be told twice and my bodies wriggles into the cave and I allow my muscles to relax, keeping my survival pack on my back and my throwing knife set around my leg because in the case we all need to flee, I would prefer that I had everything all ready to go. But I also sleep with one hand curled around the blade I had stolen from the District 11 female, just in case.

Cassandra seats next to Alden like I had before, curled up under his arm demanding body heat but something was different about their movements, it seemed so natural and everything but awkward. Was something going on between Alden and Cassandra that they didn't care to tell me? I don't question it, last thing I would want to do is hit the wrong nerve in conversion before falling asleep in their presence, might wake up tomorrow morning with a knife in my back, or maybe I wont wake up at all.

But I am too tired to think about any of that now, I haven't slept properly night before and the nights leading up to today weren't smooth sleeping either. So as I completely relax, my eyes close and I drift off into well deserved sleep.

_BANG!_

The sounding of a cannon shocks me from a nightmare filled sleep, pulling me to sit straight upwards the top of my head misses knocking against the top of the cave by half an inch. I guess the cannon sounding had to happen soon but I am truly surprised it didn't happen a little sooner but now is an appropriate time. Most tributes will be in the middle of dozing in and out of uncomfortable dreams as they shake profoundly like leafs on a tree during a storm. The tip of my nose is cold but thanks to Cassandra using the sleeping bag before I had, she had heated it with her body so when I climbed in maybe two hours ago, the bag was warm and toasty like my bed at home in 4.

We won't know who the cannon belonged to until tomorrow night when they play the anthem, but then I hear laughter and shouts of congratulating happiness followed by something sickening, "Eleven down; thirteen to go!" it is a masculine voice, of whom I automatically recognise as Cato, his ability to count down earns him a round of appreciative hoots. I feel sick to my stomach but I have no idea what else I expected, we are here to kill. Fight or die. He is doing the clever thing and picking off the competition in their most vulnerable before they turn on each other, through the dark trees, even from this height I can see glistening rays of fake lights from torches breaking through the icy tree trunks and tops. If the Career Pack has secured all the non claimed objects at the Cornucopia, that means they have food, water, clothing and other useful survival tools but also the unclaimed weapons and night-vision goggles, no one is save but if they all hunt together, who is protecting the goods? If no one has been assigned to protect the goods, that means they are up for the taking for any tribute brave enough to try.

Considering the tiredness that still whips at my limbs and tugs on my eyelids, I find it hard to return to sleep so instead I lean up against the jagged rock at the mouth of the cave, drifting in and out of consciousness but I am too gripped with anxiety now that I don't want to fall asleep, and now whenever I close my lids, the girl from District 11 flashes up, the red blood and the look in her eyes as she falls dead. My first kill.

"Well, if you ladies aren't going to sleep, then I am." Alden says after some time, Cassandra nor I object, he takes my place inside the cave as I take his outside in the bitter cold still surrounding by my night watch partners sleeping bag.

Our watch is silent, there is nothing to talk about and I would like to keep it that way but when I notice that Cassandra is shaking with her hands are nipped tightly underneath her armpits, my sensitive and still caring side takes over but I do not offer her the sleeping bag, despite it being hers but I do invite her inside. "I don't bite." I reassure her with a playful wink as she gives me an uneasy look.

Cassandra then manages to couch up enough courage to shuffle into the now open and waiting sleeping bag. There isn't much room to move so we remain leant up against the rocks with our knees to our chest and our feet pressed against the rising rock in front of us. Our shoulders are touching with the force of the sleeping bag capacity working against us, I am not bothered by the touch of my fellow tribute however she is uncomfortable until Cassandra learns that a little bodily contact with me wont hurt her.

The minutes tick by slowly like hours, the temperature continues to plummet but then the Gamemakers feel it humorous to create a shift in the weather and the sky opens with white flakes of snow, the cold striking wind has stopped to the snow is irritating enough to cause discomfort but also to allow the flakes to slowly create a blanket over the surroundings. Quickly scrambling to release the survival pack from around the back of my upper body, I remove the lid from the water bottle and place it on the rock beside me. Snow is frozen water and with the helpfulness of the filter installed in the plastic bottle when the snow melts it will be save to drink. Hopefully, I wouldn't surprise me if the snow was poisonous, this is the Hunger Games after all.

_BANG! _

Another cannon sounds within seconds of the weather shift, almost like that was the reason for the death of whoever the cannon belongs too but again, we won't know until tomorrow night, but like the death beforehand, there is a collection of hoots and laughters but I am wrong about not knowing who the cannon belongs too. "Stupid bitch, thinking she can fight us off with a gammy wrist!" the high-pitched and evil voice of Iris Castillo echoes through the air close by.

Arlette Iverson, the female tribute of District 8 claims thirteenth place in this years Hunger Games.

Cassandra is silent beside me, she doesn't know I stamped on the tributes wrist and broken it but even if she did, I seriously doubt she would have said anything about it. Was this girls death my fault as well? No, back in Panem the Gamemakers won't give me a tally for her death because I didn't do it. From the sound of it that point goes into Iris column, but will they put that the injury she sustained during the bloodbath contributed to her death? Dragging me into another innocent girls death, will her family partly blame me for her death like the family of my first kill will hate me and blame me.

As I think of her death, the girl from District 11, I feel maybe her family should be slightly grateful, from as far as I could tell from beneath her, that the time of her suffering wasn't great, for other tributes it was the death they would wish for. Quick and relatively painless before total freedom.

It is a death I wish for.

As dawn breaks free over the horizon, I cannot help but think about hunting as my stomach growls angrily at me for neglecting it this long. The Career Pack will be asleep no doubt as they have been hunting tributes the entire night with their fancy tools and the other tributes will be in hiding, some maybe still sleeping but I cannot be certain. The creatures of the night will be returning to their homes allowing the creatures of the day, rabbits, hares, deer's and whatever edible mammals will be out in those woods.

Alden awakes to find myself and Cassandra sleepy eyed staring in the same place he assumes something is happening or happened so when we reveal nothing has happened or happening, he thinks we are lying and goes sour towards us like a toddler. Then we discuss hunting partners, Alden knows a bit about the woods, what animals live in what sections and it would be smarter for me to go with him, but considering Cassandra has the survival instincts of a dead squid, Alden and Cassandra partner to hunt this morning, but as they go to leave, Waylon moves in a ill manor before requiring our help before he vomits inside our living space. Cassandra then argues that she should stay as she is the medical brains between the three of us in relatively good condition.

It is not a likeable arrangement, but after giving Cassandra a very strong speech on staying quiet and still is any tributes adventure her way. Alden finally unclenches enough to leave her, semi-confident that she will be okay. We tell her than when we return, we will whistle, a sweet four-note tune that symbolises something of a mockingjay. A Capitol mutation that never met to exist, the jabberjay's were created to keep tabs on people as they have the ability to copy entire conversations, just another way for the Capitol and President Snow to control us, but then male jabberjay's mated with female mockingbirds, to create a species that never meant to be.

There is an outstanding beauty in a mockingjay, or maybe it is the soul fact that they were never meant to be, visible evidence that even President Snows brilliant system of fear doesn't work if people have hope they cannot control everything. And a mockingjay gives people that hope, even if it is simply a flicker, that's better than nothing.

Once practising the small whistle back and forth between Cassandra and myself and Alden, we then head off to catch breakfast, but first we need a plan so as we hit the lining of the trees at the bottom of the rocky mountains, careful to stay low enough so we aren't completely visible to the other tributes that may be watching, we do have to remember there are still eight tributes out there. Six Careers still standing strong and two who may have created an alliance or may not have. Separately they don't pose as much as a threat but together their threat level rises.

So as we discuss some sort of hollow plan, a strategy we can use. Alden come to the conclusion that food is our main priority for this trip in the woodland, but if a tribute comes along during the process, it is collateral damage but I feel somewhat differently to this. I was a murder now, there was no nice way to process this now, with the knife I carry in the loop of my belt, I stole a child's life from her but to make me feel better about it, my brain keeps reminding myself that if I hadn't done what I did, maybe I would now be dead, replacing her life would be me and I didn't want that, if I had surly I would have allowed her to kill me, I wouldn't have jumped between her and Waylon, who is now dying at a slower and tremendously more painful death that if I had left him.

There was truth. I hadn't saved Waylon, I was torturing him slowly. Dragging him to death slowly, giving him the blade but no the strength to use it and hate builds up inside of my chest, not for Waylon but for myself. How fucking stupid must I be not to see that his fate written death on the field would have been perfect, quick and relatively painless. The death every tribute wants. And I stole that from him.

My guilty conscience continues to rub away at my skull but I am determined to not let these thoughts destroy me, not yet. Right now is about food, staying alive and proving I can survive in these stupid sinful games. They are just games in theory. I turn my attention back to Alden who is thinking about how is the smartest way to ensure food and I listen as intently as possible.

* * *

**A/N: Please review.**


	23. Chapter 23: Food and Death

Chapter Twenty-Three.

**The Hunger Games Breakfast Special: Food and Death.**

Fishing out my long rope from my survival pack, I slice the end so the strands can wiggle free from their fixed position before clasping one and removing it from the clump. Alden instructs me to lace the string around two tree stumps so the space between them is somewhat of a web. I do this to several trees dotted in an uneven line whilst saying a silent prayer as I finish before returning to Alden. Living in District 7 surrounded by trees on a daily basic, I'm sure he feels more at home than any other tribute, but Alden hasn't taken his beautiful home for granted and has learnt to track deer's were they and their predators live in the areas of the woodland where he works on the weekends and after schools if he has the chance.

As we prowl through the thick undergrowth, I scoop some fresh snow that clings to the medium branches in my water bottle. Alden doesn't fail to impress me and we find a small herd of deer's. One adult with scarily large antlers, two teenagers with medium sized horns, their head is probably the same height as mine but again, with my child-like height that is no real accomplishment and a baby, its head is roughly to my waist with tiny straight horns that are beginning to separate.

"What's the plan?" I ask.

Alden crouches down and I follow, "We need to scare them in the direction of those webs you set up and hopefully, one will get caught."

Slightly, Alden sweeps around the outskirts of the group until we are positioned either side. The creatures must already be aware that there are tributes here because the youngest one is fidgeting and the adult begins to scan the surroundings, no doubt looking for a wolf or a cougar, something that is a certain threat. Through the snow covered trees, Alden gives me a single nod and waits for me to return the gesture before we more closer to the pack, now is no time to be quiet but truthfully we don't need to be loud as these creatures have brilliant hearing and the adult releases a sort of grunt alarming her children to start moving as Alden and I move in closer, a little faster than walking but not as quick as running, yet.

The deer's bolt off in their herd, separating in panic. The small baby of the pack has removed itself from the protection of its mother. Alden and I turn our pace from a jog into a run as we attempt to follow the much quicker beasts. The clobbering of hooves get fainter and fainter and soon they are gone, but the faint sound of a distressed animal gets louder and louder as we go to check our traps.

Alden slaps me on the back triumphantly as we are greeted by the sweet sight of the baby deer with its antlers caught in the string and somehow the infant has managed to get its front legs and one of its back tangled in the thin woollen string. We approach the small deer gently so we didn't panic the creature any further, we were unsure if the parents of his infant or possible predators – both animal and human – are around so we agree to make this quick.

"I'll grab it's head and you kill it." Alden orders walking around the tree to approach the infant's head and grab it firmly but I am frozen, another kill and I feel guilty, despite this death will not put a tally next to my name in the Capitol, but it is still the death of another innocent thing, and like so many of us in here, this deer hasn't reach adulthood yet. The only thing coaching me out of my frozen state to remove the blade that I had taken from the District 11 tribute, was the idea that the camera's could be on us now, the sponsors will be watching and hopefully be impressed by mine and Alden's hunting abilities.

Alden keeps a hold of the creature as I approach with the blade. I have never been so close to a deer before, from my window in Victor's Village I have only seen small fractions of these animals, a head some nights if I am lucky but normally they stay pretty well hidden in the tree-line of the back of our garden. The squirming creature kicks its legs in a rather surprisingly furious manor for its size. From its throat the small animal almost yells for help and is drawing attention to us and soon, no doubt other tributes will be closing in with the hope a small animal has caught itself helplessly, a waiting meal and I didn't plan to share my breakfast with any other tributes except Cassandra, Alden and Waylon.

My hand shakes as I press the blade into the top of the spine at the base of the creatures skull, the strong tip of the blade pierced through the vertebrates and the infant is instantly brain-dead, any movement now is simply loose nerve endings. Alden skins the creature before handing it too me to gut, its a foul job but food is food and we are all starving. Leaving the entrails on the ground hidden by a pile of leaves and pushing the fur into my survival pack. We cut the string free from the trees and slowly cook the food somewhere else as it would be stupid to draw attention to the place where we are currently staying but also to draw the Career Pack to a different spot.

We cook all the meat that we can carry on the hot ash's that formally belonged to another tribute, possibly Arlette. Whilst we are cooking the first leg, Alden removes a plastic sheet from his survival pack and lays it out flat on the ground so we when we are finished slowly cooking the meat we can wrap it up in the plastic sheeting to keep it warm until we meet Cassandra and Waylon back at the cave. On the way back, I set up three traps, simple snares that could possibly take us something for tomorrow then our appetite grabs a hold of us and we end up eating an entire deer leg of meat each as we walk through the woodland back to the mountain. Discarding of the bones beneath a large rock before scaling up the rocky surface, I trip and scrap my palms but I ignore the tingling pain and continue walking up knowing I can sort myself out back at the cave.

Alden whistles the mockingjay tune which is carried by the birds themselves around the arena, the other tributes won't think anything of the birds sweet song and will continue on with whatever they are doing but for Cassandra it means she can breath a little easier but as we reach the cave mouth, Cassandra is sat leaving over Waylon who is covered in sweat but is shivering profoundly.

She leaves the cave to greet us nicely, then we eat. Cassandra polishes off an entire leg in a matter of a minute, possibly less, with one of my throwing knives, I shard the meat from several ribs and collect it before entering the cave and go to feed Waylon but from the looks of his closed eyes, he is sleeping soundly.

"Hey." I whisper shaking his shoulders slightly, he jerks away panting violently in reaction to my face, my hand reveals the food for him as I attempted to smile strongly but I can tell he is afraid of me, "It's okay," I tell him removing a piece of meat from the section of the plastic sheeting, "You hungry?" I ask.

Waylon nods frantically, sometimes I forget that some of the other districts don't eat like us in Four. They are poor and poverty dominates most of their towns. This young boy has probably never had a decent meal in his life and I cannot help but smile at his happiness, it is heart-warming and I feel whole as I feed him like a child but I can tell swallowing is a challenge for him as his face screws up in pain and I begin to wish I could have made the meat into some sort of broth or stew, something to be easily consumed.

"I'm not afraid." Waylon says suddenly in the middle of being fed, he swallows his mouthful and allows the pain to flicker over his face has his body trembles and tightens with a wave of discomfort but he doesn't attempt to fight and look strong now. Waylon is allowing himself to look weak.

I am not simply a little taken back, I am a lot taken back by his comment, "Of what?" I ask adding silently on the end, _of me? _A flicker of anger sparks in my chest at the thought of him being afraid of me, that is beyond stupid. I saved him from the bloodbath and I am feeding him like a toddler. He doesn't have any reason to fear Cassandra because she is the one who has been looking after him medically, changing his bandages and cleaning his wound. Non of us had a needle so we couldn't close the wound sadly but with him deteriorating as quick as he is, I doubt there is any reason to do so.

"Of dying," he continues on, "I might be young, but I am not stupid – I am dying, aren't I?"

Licking my lips and staring downwards to my dirt and blood covered hands, I nod slowly, no use keeping it from him now but I am certain he already knows. "Yes, you're dying and it will get a lot more painful and it'll be slow. And I am sorry because it is my fault."

Waylon nods in agreement, he acknowledges his pain and suffering is my fault and that's good, "I want to die. It hurts." he tells me, emotion strikes his voice and I begin to feel sicker than ever before, tears line Waylon's eyes and I cannot determine whether it was intentional or just to copy me. His bottom lip begins to wobble and I catch on this isn't an act of deceit, "I want you to do it." the small child then says firmly.

"What?" my voice is suddenly abrupt, stone like and heartless. He wants me to kill him?! That is mad.

Waylon turns to fully face me, is grey eye are glistening with a protective layer of transparent tears, "I want you to kill me." he repeats as if I hadn't heard him the first time. "I saw how you killed the girl from Eleven, it'll be quick."

I stumble backwards to the other side of the cave. No, I will not. I cannot, I saved him to prove I have a conscience and I am something more than a pawn in the Capitol's games. My head shakes so hard on the top of my shoulder that I fear it may come off.

"Do it!" Waylon begins to yell at me. Alden and Cassandra turned their attention to us as Waylon's yells increase in volume and my tears thicken but there is no escape from the cave and where would I run to? Into another tribute only to attempt and kill them to save my own skin anyway? "I can't." I tell him over and over again but he doesn't listen, he insists that I end his life.

Then the others step in to calm us, obviously sensing the danger in mine and Waylon's raised conversation. Cassandra attends to Waylon as he begins to complain that his side hurts and he feels sick, with the smell of the last incident when Waylon was sick inside the cave still lingering in the air, the doctor of the three of us takes the wounded tribute outside for some fresh air as the air inside the cave is damp and sticky but I am forced to stay because Alden makes me. He positions himself in front of me, his hands clasps my shoulders as I continue to rock and mumble, _I can't, I can't..._ to myself. Why is he asking me this? Living is the aim of this sick game, sponsors will send medicine eventually, surly he has sponsors. If not then I am ashamed of the Capitol, even more than I was before, not trying to keep an innocent child alive but isn't that what I have been trying to do, keep an innocent young boy alive and hasn't that blown up in my face.

"You know, he is in a lot of pain." Alden tells me as if I am blissfully unaware of the pain this boy – I thought I was saving – was in.

I nod, "I know, but I can't kill him. I saved him so he wouldn't die."

"Let me ask you this: why did you save Waylon from the bloodbath? Why didn't you let the girl from District 11 kill him?" Alden asks.

My shoulders shrug before I can stop them, like it is all no big deal, "Because I thought I was doing the right thing, but clearly... it wasn't."

Alden raises an eyebrow at me, "You're right, it wasn't the right thing to do. In fact it was a stupid thing to do, you tried to be the hero in a game that doesn't allow for acts like that. But now, you have a chance to really do something right."

What Alden was saying made perfect sense and the fact that Waylon wanted to die didn't shock me really, the infection would get increasingly more painful as it effects his limps and destroys his body from the inside out. And as the other tributes begin to die off and the competition begins to excite, myself and my fellow allies will want to move. Waylon is quite literally dead weight but that point and we would either have to carry with us, leave him to die or kill him. Plus is family will have to watch him slowly get worse, watch him suffering and they will question why no one did something. If one of us survives, we will be hated twice as much because we allowed him to suffer. So truthfully, his fate has been written out here as well because he isn't going to last until the others are dead, not unless something tragic happens but the citizens of Panem could never be that bored they would wipe out the entire competition in one motion, especially since they cannot be certain one tribute will survive and they have to have a victor.

"You need to do this, Anastasia." Alden whispers gripping the back of my neck with his right hand to bring our foreheads together. A wave of discomfort ripples through my body starting at my head as I try to tug away but his hand holds me firmly. I fold my arms across the front of my chest in case he turns on my and attempts to drive a knife into my body, the blade will catch my forearm and pierce nothing important, hopefully, but Alden remains still and silent showing no danger to me.

I sigh heavily before bolting free from his grip, knocking him backwards and exiting out into the cold air. My lips are cracked as my throat dries as I think about water, to satisfy my cravings for liquid, I remove my water bottle from my survival pack to happily discover the snow has melted and the filter has removed the dirt and made the water save to drink. I take out the filter and scrape the dirt from its netting before sipping at the liquid. Water pumps through my body filling it with energy and relief. Liquid courage is something I truly need but I doubt sponsors send alcohol into the arena, and I seriously doubt any tribute would find a clever use for it. Only idiots, such as the Careers would drink it. Live a little wild in an arena where death is only a stone throw away.

The sun was masked with light grey clouds sitting on a pale blue sky. It is almost scary how much it truly looks and feels like we are actually outside in an woodland. There is no wind today but in the atmosphere the lightness of the now brings hope the weather may turn for the better. I scan the rocky mountains around me, searching for a perfect spot: flowers maybe with a nice view of the arena because it is beautiful despite the killings, and the trees masks the horror. Above us, around the lining of the top of the arena is a small lining of trees that bent over the cliff like old people. That is perfect, but getting up there will be the challenge as the ground arches inwards making the climb virtually impossible. Not by ourselves.

Waylon is leant up against the other side of the rock barrier, clutching his side and closing his eyes. I gesture for Cassandra to cross over to me and Alden joins us at the mouth of the cave. "I need you to help me and Waylon get up there." I tell them, pointing over the cave top to the top band of trees. They agree to help me with wordless nods and then we move.

Alden takes Waylon in his arms despite the boy asking for me and we walk to the band of trees, end of the line for most other tributes. Up there we shouldn't be disturbed which is truly what I want more than anything, to have someone else kill him, maybe, but no, Waylon asked for me. With some struggle and a lot of accidentally kicking, me and Waylon are pushed onto the highest point of the arena and Cassandra and Alden are set to be on guard for the time being.

Waylon limps with my support to a small part of the bank where beautiful purple flowers blossomed from the thick blades of grass that tangle around our booted feet. The trees are fully grown but the air, some how seems warmer, fresher and calmer up here. Waylon wiggles from my supportive arms and inspects the area with careful eyes. I keep close in case he needs me to lean on or something, but staying close was my biggest mistake as Waylon turns with a sudden burst of saved energy, his fist of his right hand is balled up on the end of his extended right arm. His weak knuckles make contact with the side of my face, just below the cheekbone knocking me sidewards. The hit itself wasn't overly painful but the seconds that followed were as I process what just happened, blood invades my mouth and my cheek begins to tickle as he opens up an old wound that I must have received during my scrap with the female tribute from District 11.

Waylon pants heavily but I am too shocked to react, did he actually just punch me? Or have I imagined the entire thing and that is why he is looking at me as if I am crazy, but I touch my face and inspect the blood covered tips of my index, middle and ring fingers. He really had just punched me. I step forward, not to attack but to study him closer with another punch ripples through the same side of my face, but unlike the first, the second hit hurt like a bitch as sharp pain echoes through my skull. Is he afraid? Has he changed his mind? However, Waylon continues to stare at me like I am crazy for not retaliating to his hits.

"Do you have a family?" he asks suddenly.

My face hardens, "Don't ask about my family." I snap.

Waylon's face doesn't faultier, "I have a little sister, Beatrice, she's been dying for several weeks now. Our family is to poor to get a doctor in so we have only the choice but to leave her to die in pain."

"So, if she died now, it would be a blessing for you." I reply, "So you can join her again."

He nods, "I don't want to die like her – slowly and painfully." Waylon says, the lining of his eyes begin to water viciously. I nod because now I truly understand his reason for wanting to die and as my eyes water like his once again. The small boy places his hands around my throat exposing his wound to the open air making him hiss painfully.

Removing his left hand, Waylon moves mine from beside me to his throat before ordering me to squeeze but I have lost my nerve, resulting in a punch to the ribs. "Squeeze." he orders in a groggy voice, then another sharp hit waves from my ribs, where the fuck is all this energy coming from? He must have been stronger than I through. Waylon continues to punch me in the ribs until I have wrapped both hands around his throat and began to squeeze.

My body is gripped with adrenaline as I pull Waylon down into the long grass to take position sitting on his chest, his dirty hands scratch into my skin removing some layers of healthy skin as his hands slip under the cuff of my black jacket, he releases vile noises from his mouth as he is slowly restricted of air and my eyes have released an ocean of tears. They slip down my cheeks mixing with my blood from the cut and dripped off my chin to land on his face, where his eyes bulge like a fish that has been to long out of water and begins to fade into a gentle shade of blue with deoxygenation.

An aching sensation folds over my body as my arms strain to keep an even pressure otherwise small wisps of air can get through dragging out death and I will have to start all over again. Our strange noises match but with very difference meanings, his moans are those of a dying child; mine are of a killer taking the child's life but there was a difference because my moans are mixed with sobs as I grit my teeth and continued to keep my promise, but it is different when the boy beneath me is thrashing violently and I begin to wonder if he really has changed his mind and wants to live but there was such firmness in his voice before that I stick to the conclusion that this is simple reflects, the urge to fight in the last moments of living, on the brink of death.

"It's okay." I mumble through my tears, "You're going to be fine."

Waylon isn't an idiot, the words of comfort aren't helping at all. He is dying. He is not fine. Everything is not going to be okay, but I don't know that. Dying is another adventure, possibly another life awaits for us on the other side. Like the first time I saw Waylon, he looks terrified, shocked and above these Games, the Capitol do not deserve him, his live or anything to do with him. Maybe thinking of something that makes him happy, or about someone he loves it will make this easier and possibly quicker.

"Listen to me." he isn't listening, he is panicking, "It'll start to feel warm, really warm." I tell him, he gasps allowing my hands to clamp tighter around his throat, "Let Beatrice take you there, don't be afraid." my chest collapses in as the tears thicken and make my eyesight foggy and disorientated. "You're okay Waylon." I tell him faintly, his fight has almost gone but that doesn't stop his hand trailing up to my chest to touch the top inner section of my left boob, but as I feel his force against my body I realise that touching my book isn't his intent and that he in fact is feeling my heartbeat that knocks with such a force against my chest, he could probably hold it in his palm.

Waylon's eyes have fluttered shut, his chest moves beneath my body but only slightly. Everything is still and quiet with nothing but my sobs echoing in our surroundings. The mockingjay's around us have been silenced by the sound of pain. As I sit on top of his body willing it to go completely limp, I know the camera's are on me right now, they are watching us, watching me strangling the life from him.

My heart is no longer in my chest as Waylon's body goes limp, his hand falls from my chest and his cannon fires. I have to pull my hands free of his throat to reveal a neat line of fresh bruising around his gullet. The marks my hands have left on him. I lick my lips to be greeted by the taste of my own salty tears on my rough, cat-like tongue. My body is still sat on Waylon's chest as I fall forwards to bury my head into the crook of his neck. My sobs become awful and painful as they have become those strangely cries that cut off halfway through, I stay like this for a little bit as I try to collect myself sightly for the camera's but I have decided to fuck the camera's. Waylon's family deserve to see that I truly cared for their son. I sit up, "I'm so sorry Waylon. I'm going to win this for you." I vow before planting a faint, yet heartfelt kiss on his forehead. I apologise to Waylon's body a couple more times as I gather all my strength and remove myself from on top of his chest to curl into a ball beside him.

He look somewhat beautiful against the flowers and protected by the willowy trees above him. He is safe and sound. The Gamemakers will want me and the others to clear our now so they can collect the body and I feel that is an excellent thing. The quicker he is out of this arena the better. In the space of the day before us, Waylon's body will be cleaned, re-dressed and sent home in a box ready for his family to say goodbye before they bury or burn him. Back in District 4, we have a graveyard packed full of young girls and boys who have lost their lives thanks to the Hunger Games, their families are planted around them to keep them together but really, what does it matter? They are dead for the entertainment of the Capitol.

As I stand, my mind flashes with the image of Katniss Everdeen and the young girl whose name escapes me. It was a flower, a little yellow thing... Rue, yea that is it. When Rue died, Katniss did something never seen or done by another tribute, before or since. She decorated the fallen tribute in flowers. I am not going to do that, coping Katniss will not help me but I honour her. An idol that shouldn't have been forgotten and it wouldn't be right, it is almost like a slap in the face to the people of District 12, but I remember the signal that Katniss made before leaving, it is not unheard of in our district but occasionally someone will use it, mainly at funerals – You place your first three fingers of your left hand to your lips before holding it in the air like a salute. It is a old and rarely used gesture across Panem, it means thanks, it means admiration, it means saying goodbye to someone you love.

Waylon was too young, too gentle, he didn't deserve to die like this. I hate the Capitol. I hate the Hunger Games. I hate everything to do with Panem but most importantly, I hate myself. I deserve to die along with Waylon. Along with my sister. Most important, President Snow deserves to die as well along with Seneca Crane and every other Gamemaker.

Before I leave. The gesture is slow and daunting but I have to do it, with emotionless eyes and a dull face with red rimmed eyes, puffy face and parted lips. I raised my first three fingers of my left hand to my lips then I raise them high into the air. The Capitol will have to capture this even is they move to another section of the arena, it doesn't matter because I know I have done it and if Waylon is watching, from wherever he is now. He knows I have done it as well.

My second kill of the Eighty-four Hunger Games: Waylon Marsden, the male tribute from District 12, who claims twelfth place in this years Games.

* * *

**A/N: I had an error in the previous chapter, District 8's female tribute actually claimed thirteenth place, when I wrote my kill list so I could keep track on who has passed, I had forgotten to add one tribute, but I have edited the chapter. **

**The chapter was really hard to write because it was rather upsetting for me weirdly, and I'm sorry for the twisted aura of this chapter. Please review. **


	24. Chapter 24: Gift From Sponsors

Chapter Twenty-Four.

**Gift From Sponsors.**

We return to our cave in complete silence. Alden and Cassandra graze their hands across my shoulders in an attempt to comfort me, but I have fallen into my own little world. The only warning of the incoming hovercraft we get was the single calling of a mockingjay, it appeared silently a few feet away from us up the hill to collect the body of Waylon. I scooped snow into my water bottle before reclaiming my sleeping bag, there isn't still a lingering heat that makes my stomach twists but I keep my discomfort hidden from the others, showing weakness doesn't work in my favour. Waylon is gone, died a good dead and it is over now but the inside of my chest seems hollow. Dead like a tree. It is hard to say what feeling dead inside is like.

To me, it is like someone has removed the contents of my chest and left a gaping void where there is nothing left but a guilt spewing black hole. It feels like all the pieces that are suppose to do something – my heart and stomach – have been removed and left me with an open bleeding wound that itches and just knowing that everything human about me has been removed is breathtakingly painful. The feeling is like the absence of oxygen in the lungs, it puts me into a panicked and near-death state yet everything is working perfectly.

Around midday, I adventure away from the alliance to set three traps around the bottom of the rocky mountain. Alden and Cassandra seems to be supportive of my feelings which I really wish they wouldn't because it makes my mind think it is acceptable to act like a wet blanket but it persuades them to give me the last leg of deer from the plastic sheeting whilst the others pick at the other spare piece of metal from the animal. Hunting will be our first thought tomorrow as then we will see if my traps has caught anything worth eating, if not then thinking of another way to catch breakfast but then I think Alden may take Cassandra instead of me, but I suspect I will have to wait for tomorrow morning to figure that one out.

After dinner, I agree to take first watch as sleeping will result in nightmares and it is too early to deal with all that, so Alden sleeps the first turn and now we all have a sleeping bag each there is no need for Cassandra and myself to share one, however I do miss the bodily contact. The sucking nothingness ensures an absolute lack of feeling so as I watch the beautiful, glorious scene of the sun setting that projects oranges, blues and a dash of pink and red across the sky makes me feel the same as I would staring at a grey wall, but soon the sky is black and the anthem of Panem begins to play and the dark sky is lit with the seal of the nation, then the sky is lit with the faces of the fallen tributes from yesterday night.

The first to appear is the male from District 5, then the female from District 8, the ones whose wrist I broke, Arlette and then after a couple of seconds pass to allow the face of the female tribute to sink in and allow every living tribute to see this tribute is no longer a threat. Then Waylon's face appears in the sky, looking smaller than ever with a sunken face and smooth rounded eyes. Then the picture is replaced with the Panem symbol and the anthem plays again before the sky is black with the night.

No one speaks but an awakened Alden touches my shoulder from behind, but I ignore him. My fingers curl around the handle of my blade, then the clinking of metal against a rock makes us all jump. Removing my blade so it was in view, Alden takes his battleaxe from the cave and holds it tightly in his hands whilst Cassandra sheepishly holds the medium sized blade like she is unsure what to really do with it. Scanning the area around us, we come to the conclusion that the noise was not the result of the weapon of a tribute knocking against a rock and we begin to search for the source of the metal impact.

Over the rocky ledge above the cave, we are all surprised to see a small metal pot attached to a silver parachute. One of us has just received a gift from the sponsor. Like a pair of wild dogs, Cassandra and Alden sprints around the cave and lunge for the pot. There isn't much shock when Alden manages to grip the pot before Cassandra to check the number engraved in bold black letters on the top of the pot, but I am too frozen by the viscous change in behaviour to ask who the pot belongs to.

A growl of frustration rumbles from Alden's throat as Cassandra and himself retract back to the cave and hand the pot to me, still attached to the parachute. I mumble a thank you as I hold the pot in my hands, pressing on the outer rims of the tops and the pot splits in half to reveal a small white card that reads; _Gift from District 12 – F. _I put the card in my pocket and study the bread roll beneath, it was still hot as I remove it from the foam lining of the container. Despite it being for myself, I pull the reasonably sized bread roll into three relatively even pieces before offering a piece to Alden and Cassandra, both who refuse the piece of my gift which I am really not bothered about at all.

I was ignorantly unaware that District 12 had a bakers, but then I remember something about Peeta Mellark, the male tribute from Twelve that won the Games ten years ago, he was a bakers son so I assume that the bread roll came from the bakers he worked in. Is the bread roll suppose to be a thank you from the people of District 12, did they not hate me for killing Waylon or did they see the goodness in my actions but truthfully, all I really wanted them to see was that Waylon asked for it, but I feel with the bread roll giving, they already know.

Very conscious that the camera's could be on me as I have just received my first and maybe only sponsorship gift of the games. Turning to the open arena, I raise a piece of the bread to the sky and smile, praying that the citizens of District 12 will feel my thanks and not see it as a sign of sarcasm. I only eat two thirds of the bread and stuff the other piece into my survival pack as I am never sure when I am going to eat next, food is not certain here.

Alden takes my place on watch with Cassandra, there is certainly something blossoming between them. I feel my heart twitch as I try to imagine what Cato is doing right now, kissing and hugging the girl from District 1 or Iris, that makes me feel sick but in reality, the Career Pack is no doubt combing through the trees searching for living tributes because now there is only eleven left still alive. Thirteen of the twenty-four innocent children are dead.

There are still eleven tributes alive, six still making up the Career Pack, our alliance makes up three meaning there are two out there on their own. The female tribute from District 3 and the male from District 9 but either, or both could have joined the Careers resulting in us being scarily outnumbered but with positivity being my only weapon inside my head, I stick to the hope the two tributes who are not in an alliance as far as we know, stay like that and don't have the foresight to be up high.

The night is cold but wrapped up inside my sleeping bag, the cold isn't so bad, beneath my tight socks my toes are numb and I worry but the tiredness I have never felt before grips my limps and I agree with them for once, despite not wanting to be babied in anyway or treated differently to the other tributes who have killed. I would like a decent night sleep, even if it is two maybe three hours, being sleep deprived is also a killer in here because the last thing you want to be doing is facing life and death when you're tired, against all odds the adrenaline will help but it won't energise your limps like rest will.

So, using my survival pack as a pillow because the rocks aren't very comfortable, I curl up like a small child and stare at the empty space where I had secretly watched Waylon sleep for hours. Praying he may drift off during his sleep, painlessly but no. Cassandra and Alden talk late into the night, their voices hushed so I or any other tribute near-by won't be able to hear. I suddenly miss him, it's like a huge rock struck me in the chest. I haven't seen his face in the sky so that means he is alive, but in what condition, I miss him, but as I hope he is okay, I remember his position amongst the Career Pack, he is there leader, of course he is okay. Alice and well fed with water and medical supplies. In the most perfect condition a Career Tribute can be.

That is what allows me to drift off, knowing the boy I shared a night with is okay. He is alive and probably a lot healthier, physically and mentally than I am right now. When I close my eyes and a warmth glides over me, I imagine being back in his arms, tucked inside his bed in his district floor room. Freezing and reliving the small piece of history to live in it forever, his heartbeat echoes in my head as my eyelids flutter shut, welcoming the natural darkness before falling into a nightmares filled pit of horror.


	25. Chapter 25: Don't Be Sure, Be Certain

Chapter Twenty-Five.

**Don't Be Sure, Be Certain.**

_Alone, maybe that is how I should be, so I cannot hurt anybody but the game isn't over yet, sprinting through the thick undergrowth as the dead begins to close in slowly. This was the Gamemakers way to scare us all into an ultimate alliance to fight the decomposing bodies of the already dead tributes who have been created into mutts – Capitol creations with false memories and intentions that aren't truly their own – or this will lead us into a second bloodbath, the end of the Games for certain. I watched Alden be minced from head-to-toe before Cassandra went insane like Annie had, that's when she fell from the edge of the chasm in front of the dam to the small lake below, but not deep enough to save her, I ran down to try and salvage her life but she couldn't be saved. As her cannon sounds, that is when they all start to appear, Cassandra removed herself from the shallow water, blood pooling from her mouth, nose and eyes with greyish, green skin and sunken eyes. She began to shuffle towards me, her left foot is crunched on its side with the bone from her ankle poking out to the side of her skin._

_Running wasn't something I had to think about, I was sprinting away from the chasm before anyone in the Capitol could blink their painted eyelids but as I foolishly look backwards to check on Cassandra's whereabouts, my body slams into another and as I prepare myself for a fist fight, my heart escapes viva my mouth as the rotting smell of flesh wafts up my nostrils making me sick as coagulated blood coats my face and palms. Scrambling backwards I watch the dead tribute before me rise in a wobbly fit. Its a female but I cannot recognise her face but I do not need to see its face to know who this tribute was, the wound on her wrist allowing chipped bone to be touched by the air. She is from District 8._

_The young girl studies me like a meal before snarling. Footsteps behind me alart me and I bury through the dirt leaves to get to my feet but as I sprint to the only spare place, another body reveals itself. A male, like the others, blood is pooling from its various wounds and it isn't long until I am surrounded by the dead tributes, including Waylon who I actually plead for help but the tinted blue skin of his face and purple bruise line around his neck reminds me, why he will not help me._

_Kicking and screaming, the dead surround me. All snarling and scratching. The horrid smell attacks my nose and throat as my vision begins to go black at the edge but against the dark surroundings I cannot tell if that is actually what's happening. A sharp pain waves through my neck as blood begins to pour down my chest, the bites continue to come. My legs, arms, throat and sides everywhere begins to get attacked with bites. I continue to kick ad scream until I am woken, not by the dead, but by my worried and still living ally, Cassandra._

They must think I am completely crazy. Insane possibly, huh, maybe I am but that doesn't matter to me anymore. The level of insanity a person has is different depending on the person and their abilities to cope with disturbing situations. For example, nothing overly abusive or visually scaring could truly damage a criminal or nowadays, a Career Tributes because the lifestyle they have been consumed by creates them like that, unfeeling and unaware of real human emotions such as guilt and sadness. Killing is good to them, honouring their district and truthfully I don't expect anything less from these children. Maybe I have just hit the line between sane and insane, but what can push me over the edge? Watching another tribute die or being responsible for their death?

My thoughts flicker to Annie, no doubt she is sat at home trying to avoid everything to do with these Games and with Finnick gone, I suppose she will be flickering between Mags and my home to feed my cat, Apple and water my brothers plants. I hope she may be watching over me, there is a flicker of family relation between myself and Annie, not that we are actually related. I am very familiar with her screams and now, I guess if I do get out of here, she will be my salvation – someone who knows what I feel like and what is going on inside my mind.

The happy little red-headed girl that she used to be before the Games has vanished into the horrid memories of her short time inside the arena. Annie Cresta has gone, but I have yet to vanish into the hollow nightmares of the games, certainly not just yet.

Like the morning before and the one before that, cold air clings to us as it circles the arena with a dash of snow, removing myself from the cave is a challenge to face the brisk coldness but with the zip of my jacket done up to my throat and my hood laced as tightly as possibly around my head. Cassandra is beside me in the cave when I awoke, because she is the one who pulled me from my nightmare, she exits the cave after me. I feel sorry for Alden who sits wide-eyed awake in the mouth of the rock formation, but his features are shallow and his eyes are sunken in half a inch into his skull surrounded by dark circles. It is now I realise how selfish I have been. They hadn't woken me and their was no cannons during the night so I spent, not exactly soundly but it was actually one of the best sleeps I have had since the reaping, the nightmares were simply a reminder of where I am and what I am suppose to be doing here.

"Let's go catch some breakfast," Alden says, struggling to stand on his own feet, his gaze is hazy and not useful, "Who is going to join me this morning?" he asks with a surprising upbeat nature to his drowning, tried voice.

I scoff before stepping forward to touch his shoulder with the best intent to be friendly whilst shaking my head, "No, you're going to stay here and try catch up on as much sleep as you can." I tell him but of course, being both male and a stubborn tribute, Alden shakes his head determined to be the centre and mastermind behind our morning hunt but thankfully Cassandra has already sided with me in this debate.

"Anastasia is right." Cassandra says sternly, "We'll be fine."

He licks the inner rim of his bottom lip, Alden's features soften even more which worries me because I fear they may fall off being so limp, but luckily and strangely, Cassandra's simple words are what convinces Alden that we will be okay and that him staying in the safety of the cave is the best thing to do because with him this tired, he isn't much help at all.

"We'll be back in a few hours." I tell him before leaving the hide out keeping a sharp eye out for the other tributes. Faintly in the gravel rocks I can see a small path being dug from our continuous walks to-and-from our cave to the woods, in my mind I suggest we begin to walk a different route back to the cave on our walk back but Cassandra and I can talk about it on our way back.

In silence, I guide Cassandra along the trail to check the three simple snare traps I had set up and left out yesterday morning. I begin to regret leaving the traps for so long without checking because with the first two traps already empty, the possibility of the last traps will have something caught in it but, sods law, it doesn't. The traps stare back at us with a vacant gaze making me react by kicking up the dirt whilst hissing and swearing like a fiend.

Cassandra stares at me – her face shows no disappointment however her eyes burn holes into my forehead, I'm not sure if it is out of anger or some other petty emotion, "It's okay," she says, despite me not apologising for anything, "We can pick some berries for breakfast." she smiles patting her hand on my shoulders to guide me in the direction of several tall shrubs. Cassandra had the foresight to direct us to the shrubs covered in a variety of different coloured and sized berries, before I am aloud to start picking berries, Cassandra stresses the importance of making sure I check with her to make sure they are edible and with the empty container plastic, zip up bag from her survival pack, we fit the center up until we struggle to zip up the top.

Like Alden and I did the morning beforehand, Cassandra and myself eat as we collect, savouring the bitter-sweet juice inside. I collect a handful of these plump dark purple berries that I personally do not recognise, and when I squeeze one of the berries between my thumb and my first finger so they burst releasing a lighter purple juice. Assuming they are save mixed with no wanting to ask Cassandra for the hundredth times if these berries are edible, I raise my hand to my mouth which is open ready to consume the berries, suddenly Cassandra's hand slaps mine viciously from my mouth causing the berries to fly across the woodland ground.

"Not these, Anastasia! They're nightlock. You'll be dead before they reach your stomach." Cassandra hissed at me. I couldn't determine what emotion now struck her, it was protective and worried. It was nice.

I look away, ashamed. "I'm sorry, they looks a lot like the ones you were gathering. I thought they were safe."

"Don't be sure, be certain." she tells me, a faint smile trails her lips. "Throw them away and wipe your hands."

Giving Cassandra a nod, I wipe my hands firmly on my trousers to remove the juices, I wonder why she didn't just let me eat them, one less tribute and I'm certain she could just play it off to Alden as an accident, that I ate them without checking but I push that away from me and allow my mind trails to the Career Pack, throughout the three days of training back in the Capitol, I don't think I saw one at the survival stations, aside from Garrett who just stayed for half of the knot tying station. That major flaw brings to surface the question of whether or not they would be able to tell the difference between these being safe or not. I unzip the pouch on my belt and shoved in several spoonfuls of nightlock.

Cassandra eyes me for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, "What are you doing?" she asks.

I raise my eyebrows and grin at her cunningly, "Maybe our blessed Career Tributes like berries." I wonder aloud to her.

My female ally grins at me with actual happiness, it is slightly insulting knowing that she doubts my motives and plan making skills but I feel proud that I can surprise her, but Cassandra's smile fades after a moment and is replaced by a wondering expression.

"How are we going to trick them into eating the berries?" Cassandra asks after a moment of silence, "We could try get their attention before 'accidentally' dropping the pouch, they will no doubt assume they are safe and eat them..." she trails off.

I raise an eyebrow, it is a smart idea, but too see-though I feel but I hadn't thought my own plan through a whole lot but I had through it a little bit about it, "Well, I saved my parachute, so we could fill the container attached to it with berries and try send it near them." I suggest.

Like I, Cassandra takes a moment to inhale the idea before nodding. "What if they don't go for the parachute?" she then asks me after a moment of silence.

I shrug, "I saw how you and Alden lunged for my parachute without any regard to who it belongs too, and if it wasn't addressed to me, I suspect that we would had eaten the content of it without much thought to the tribute it was really for."

Cassandra's face clouds with embarrassment and her cheeks flush red but she pushes that aside and we continue to talk about how difficult task of tracking the Career Pack and drawing them away from the Cornucopia which was probably where they are, protecting the mountain of unclaimed survival goodies. Unfortunately, as Cassandra and I stand talking, we both have ignored our natural survival instructs and suddenly we are alerted by the firmness of unfamiliar voices that echo from behind us, but they are not talking instead they are singing and the song is worse than their singing voices. I slap my hand, possibly a little too forcefully around Cassandra's mouth and drag her into the thick scrub to mask our bodies.

"_F is for friends who kill stuff together..." _the first sharp voice rattles through the air like a witch.

Laughs echo, "_U is for U R dead..." _a masculine voice takes the lead.

"_N is for no one getting out alive..." _a different voice of a tribute squeals.

Their footsteps echo closer, Cassandra's breath is hard and hot against the skin of my hand, "_Out here in the Hunger Games..."_the last person finishes with a flourish, allowing the off note to trail through the air.

We are frozen for a good purpose, as the breaths, heavy footsteps and voices all belong to this years Career Pack. Their steps edge closer and closer to the bushes where we are hidden, a large portion of me is thankfully they haven't noticed us but as one of them flicks their blade or machete, through the bushing where we hide, slicking the top of my ear making me release a muffled quiver of pain, I am less thankful.

"Are you sure they're around here?" the sharp voice of a high pitched female shatters through the air near us. The Career Pack stop and through the bushes myself and Cassandra can see them, they have passed us luckily so we can breath a little easier but they are still in hearing and seeing range. Sadly, they all seem in good health, non of them look effected by the Games, neither mentally or physically. Cato has scabbed over knuckles, no doubt from fighting. The girl from District 2 has a thin cut gliding across her face from the tip of her nose to the edge of her temple. Iris Castillo, annoyingly looks untouched, no physically injuries. Alden's sister Jacqueline holds a heavy looking axe that is far to big for her own body, her face is layered with dirt and has a swollen lip indicating a fight that has been recent, possibly with another one of her fellow Careers. Setting aside District 1 male, who also is untouched, I am pleased to see when my eyes fall upon Garrett Larkin, he is also not harmed in anyway, well aside from a cut that trails from the middle of his eyebrows to his hairline, that has scabbed over with dry blood but it doesn't look infected and I don't see any reason why it should be, with all those medical supplies.

Garrett is armed with a beautiful black handle and bladed machete, the edge of the blade is flat and silver plated, the tip glistens with blood. My blood. This tells me that is was Garrett who unintentionally cut me through the bushes, as I watch and listen I learn the Careers have left the District 9 male, Cedric in charge of looking after the supplies whilst they go on the look for the four tributes left alone. Two of which, are hiding a minuscule distance of four meters away.

"Who is left?" the girl from District 1 asks.

Cato takes a deep intake of air, "The girl from District 3 –"

"– My brother." Jacqueline interrupts earning her a death glance but Cato quickly recover from being stripped of the attention, "The girl from Ten and –"

"Anastasia," Iris hisses with full rage, the District 1 pair smile at this fifteen year old's blood-lust "And if we see her, she is mine!" the little girl vows, making sure the others knew I was to be her kill. I am not surprised to see any of the others speak up against her, however I am shocked when both Cato's and Garrett's faces tense, very slightly at her words.

I want to leap through the bushes and wrap my hands around her throat or throw one of my blades from my holster, she would be dead and made a fool of in front of the Capitol, who the hell does Iris think she is? Claiming my life before she has come face-to-face with me. Well guess what Miss Castillo, you are mine. They continue to talk, frozen in the spot they remained on before, talking tactics of where to look and teams to look in. Cato then turns the conversation into search parties, today they plan to comb through the lasting trees and woodland area, throughout the night they decide to rest because the rocky side slopes will be to dangerous to comb through so it suggestion comes from Jacqueline that during the first few hours of the early morning, they will begin to scale the rock faces. My eyes flicker from Cato to Garrett who raises the blade of the machete to his fingertips and begins to run his hand from the bottom to the top, clearly bored by the conversation taking place before him.

As his fingertips drag through the warm blood at the end of his blade, his green eyes dark up and begin to scan the surroundings, however he doesn't alert the other Career Tributes but once thinking about what he last dragged his weapon through, his familiar friendly eyes land on the shrub hiding myself and Cassandra – who breathing becomes almost hysteric – but I try to remain calm for both of us. Some of Garrett's last words bounce against the walls of my skull, _I am more likely to help you than I am to kill you. _How much has he changed from speaking those words, how much have these other children managed to twist into his head that I am the enemy. I guess I will find out and soon enough after twenty torturous seconds, Garrett and I lock eyes.

It is almost like I can see everything back home. As if I can see the television screens televising us. The other Career Tributes are bickering, but Garrett is staring off into the distance, the space between us is vacant and then there is me, hidden in the bushes with dry blood from a previous kill still plastering my face, the cut on my cheek has bruised a purple-blue colour along with my nose but my eyes are still recognisable, green with a touch of blue like the ocean in District 4. Home. Garrett's eyes widen when he realises it is me, and all I want to do is hug him because he is alive and well. Disbelief grips my body when Garrett looks back at his fellow allies and says something muffled, did he just tell them I am here? No, they are moving away, to the left. Cato takes the lead and the girl from District 1 is very eager to follow. Jacqueline and the boy from Two follow without need of coaching, but Iris seems to be less wanting to move along, does she know I am here? She isn't that smart, nor did she accidentally butcher my ear with a machete. Iris moves along before hissing at Garrett to do the same but she ultimately moves on without him giving Garrett the chance to look back at the bush and winks with a grin before trailing along after his group, but not before I can give me a truly thankful look and smile.

Once they all have gone, their footsteps and voices are faint enough for us to feel we are at a safe distance, Cassandra and I move silently from the bush like a pair of foxes on all fours before getting up to sprint back to the rock face. We need to move from our cave because they know where the other tributes are hiding, but that means we threaten ourselves by moving into another tribute territory, but there is only one other tribute out there alone, the girl from District 3 because the boy from Nine, Cedric has joined the Career Pack as a guard for the mountain of supplies.

Berries in hand and nightlock secured inside my zip up pocket, we break for the rocky slopes around the arena, being too far from our original pathway we are forced to walk through the V shaped creeks in order to reach the level our cave is set upon. Cassandra is the first to enter the cave, we both forget to warn Alden with the mockingjay whistle so he is paused ready for attack. With twigs still in her hair, Cassandra quickly removes the sponsors parachute from the back of the cave and hands it to me, both of us are far to consumed by the recent unravelling of events that we do not answer his questions until almost all of the nightlock berries are placed rectangle cut out in the foam of the container. I keep a few in case of an emergency.

"Tonight we need to find a new place to hide." Cassandra tells him firmly.

Alden looks gravely confused as he extends his neck to lean forward with his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, "Whys that?"

Distantly, a whoop followed by a cannon firing below in the woodland answers his question, they found her, the girl from District 3 is now dead, but to make sure he full understands, "The Careers have figured out we and not anymore, but other tributes were hiding up this end of the arena and on the rocky slopes." I say strongly.

Cassandra takes over explaining, "For the rest of today, they will continue scanning the woodland area, but tomorrow morning they will begin with the rocky slopes."

I finish closing the container, my fingers are shaking with adrenaline, Garrett kept his word but what if this idea, my idea kills him? "I suggest we move during the night." I say.

Cassandra nods before fumbling for the berries, "Breakfast." she announces. Alden drives in, clearly hungry. I suspect he is a little disappointed by the no meat in his morning meal but he doesn't openly complain. He eyes me up with curiosity.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asks me, spitting out several discarding pieces of berries in the process but I try to ignore them as they land on my face, he points at the silver parachute that sits protectively in front of me.

I grin cunningly, "Because around twilight tonight, we are going to poison some Careers."

* * *

**A/N: Don't forget to review, follow and favourite if you are enjoying!**


	26. Chapter 26: Nightlock Plan

Chapter Twenty-Six.

**The Nightlock Plan.**

"This isn't going to work." Alden says bluntly.

My eyes shoot up from my hands which cradles one of my beautifully crafted throwing blades, "Why not?" I ask.

Alden shifts his body weight from being slouched against the rock face beside our cave to being sat up straight, "Don't you think it'll look a bit suspicious that a parachute filled with food lands near another set of tributes and the person it was for is no where around?" he asks. Silence hits me, how could I not have thought about that? Even the Careers aren't that stupid. I raise my eyebrows at him, opposite me facing inside the cave, Cassandra's face matches my embarrassment of not thinking that part through.

"Then one of us should follow it, y'know pretend to run after it." Cassandra suggests, her voice is low like she is scared another tribute will hear but really, we are the only ones left the Careers need to hunt, then they take out the boy from District 9 who is guarding their supplies before they fight for the crown amongst themselves. I predict Jacqueline would go first, then maybe the girl from District 1, what was her ridiculous name? Cherish, yeah something stupid like that. With Iris and her knives, I think she would be able to take out the boy from District 1 and then she would go for Garrett, of course she would because if she hadn't claimed the life of me then she would do it out of spit, making sure she released all the rage and hatred for me on Garrett. However without her knives, I am pleased to think Iris would be helpless but would Cato be able to kill her if they had to face each other.

My mind wonders back to the training center back in Panem, the day when Iris discovered I refused a place amongst the Careers, the bone cracking beneath my knuckles and the beautiful cries of pain released from her lungs, but then the rage that bubbled in my chest when Cato comforted her knowing Iris had started it. I begin to doubt Cato's killer instincts towards his district partner.

I twirl the blade idly between my fingers, narrowly missing slitting the ends of my fingertips and flicking it from the palm to the top of my hand, "I'll trail it." I volunteer before brave Alden even has a second to think about it, but logically being from District 4, I am the only one who can.

Alden looks at me with a raised left eyebrow, "Why you?" he asks, I capture my lip between my teeth as I try to suppress my laughter that isn't filled with a lot of humour, so instead I pick up the container attached to the silver parachute and tap the metal surface with my index finger that displays the district number of which tribute this is intended for but Alden – being himself – finds a simply way to crush my small happiness I had managed to salvage from the minutes before hand, "What if they think it is for the boy from your district?"

_Oh shit, _a angry voice mumbles inside my head but I manage to recover quickly before I am trampled with awkwardness with not so much a clever plan, "I can always go down there before twilight and light a fire before one of you drop the parachute down." I suggest, without any confidence.

Both Cassandra and Alden shake their heads like parents telling off , their faces stone like as they completely disagree with what I have said, "That is far too risky, why don't we all go?" Cassandra suggests, "Alden can drop the parachute from a tree –"

"– Why me?" Alden interrupts.

"Because you grew up in District 7, surely you know how to climb a tree better than Cassandra or me." I say.

Alden's brows furrow in annoyance, personally I cannot see where his annoyance is created from, was it because he was afraid of heights or was it because he doesn't trust myself and Cassandra alone. We hadn't told him about the hiding from the Careers, it didn't seem worth hearing 'I told you so' from him, when really we hadn't gone against what he warned us about, to keep quiet and out of the way of other tributes, despite the Careers stumbling onto us and we hadn't been spotted. "Fine." he grumbles.

"_Fine._" I grumble, coping his tone in a mocking sense. Cassandra breaks through the stiffness that claims her body to release a hardened laugh. She then turns her attention to the slice in my ear. I feel her fingers which shake in the coldness as they trace the outline of the wound, from the inner ring of my cartilage to the outside of my ear is split all the way through. The iodine stings but I feel good knowing that this will help to reduce the risk of infection. I remember Atala going through the statistics of dying in these games. 10% from dehydration and 15% from infection, surprisingly I am unaware of any of the tributes who have already passed have died from infection, that may have been a contributing factor to may deaths, it certainly was in Waylon's and possibly the girl from District 8, but I would her broken wrist would have had time to catch an infection, but I didn't hang around once I had grabbed the survival pack to see if the bone had pieced her skin or the break remained inside the skin.

Lunch was provided by a friendly sponsor who was fond of Cassandra, she happily shared her high protein soup with myself and Alden. I felt bad by accepting her offer but I made peace by breaking the piece of bread I had saved from a sponsor in District 12 in half and offered a piece in return for the several spoonful's of soup which was lovely, rich and very Capitol quality. The berries are beginning to grow on me as I shovel the simply and flavourless force of minerals and proteins.

I refill my water bottle from the trees just below us, making sure not to adventure to far into the woodland but the snow has become thin and I only manage to fill four inches above the filter which covers and protects the two inches of water already placed, the weather hasn't warmed up but the snow has stopped falling probably because the Gamemakers haven't made this year as dry as the years before but my toes are still lacking in feeling, the tip of my nose and fingers are numb.

Dinner was the same as lunch, berries, berries and guess what...more berries but no matter how much we ate, the pile that is displayed out in front of us like a Capitol meal doesn't go down and I begin to think I am dreaming, perfect punishment really. Made to eat and eat tasteless berries until I burst from lack of satisfaction, but I refuse to open my packets of crackers or beef strips, I am saving them for an emergency, saving them until something really bad happens and food becomes shockingly scarce. My stomach still grumbles as the plastic sheet frowningly becomes empty, laced and decorated with small pip seeds covered in spit. Cassandra folds the bag up so it slips nicely inside her survival pack, then we all clean what we have left here. Sleeping bags are neatly folded and rolled to fit like they did before into our survival packs, however I am annoyed and frustrated to find the 'nothing goes back in the way it came out' rule abides inside the games, of course, it does. Alden knots the two loose end of his survival pack straps so he can put his arms through to wear it on his back like Cassandra and myself.

There was a good chance one or more of us could be killed in the next few hours from twilight onwards, Cassandra and Alden sat close, unnaturally close but I have learned that being aware of natural human emotion and movements is something stupid to keep a hold to, because it is not natural in anyone's nature to want to kill one another, too make young children fight to the death in an arena watched by millions of hungry eyes. My two fellow allies hands were hidden by the dark fabric of their overcoat, I imagine their fingers entwined in each others, wanting and craving more but I am here, even in the games I am a cock-block, I was like this in Four, Leila would try and patch me up with some boy she had met in town or at school, throughout the process of mine and the boys time together, I managed to make things too awkward for the date to continue, therefore by orders of Leila and not being able to leave her alone. Third-Wheel Anastasia kicks in where my awkwardness is replaced with sarcasm and I end up ruining the night for us all.

Being awkward has its perks, but tonight I decide to keep quiet and turn my back. Their relationship is non of my business, nor will it ever be my business again. I sit watching the sky, studying the stone dam opposite the rocky terrain on the other side of the arena. Human made silence takes over the arena and if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend I am not here in the Hunger Games and that I am somewhere else, but when I open my lips, allowing them to adjust to the darkening light, the harsh reality strikes me and process starts over again.

By twilight we have left the safety of our now ex-cave and were heading down the rocky terrain, from the glistening flickers of yellow flames that lick the air like a hungry child through the trees allows us to be able to place where the Career Pack has made camp for the night. The dried blood on my face removes itself, falling from my skin like dandruff and soon my face is free of blood, apart from the tinted red splotches which are the result of the blood settling itself in my pours, the cut on my left cheek has clotted itself with dry blood, no doubt the area around is bruised black. I have noticed only one nostril allows air to pass through, this tells me that my nose was in fact broken and my knuckles have scabbed over.

At the edge of the woodland, Alden takes the silver parachute from me before standing in front of Cassandra and myself, his pale eyes are pasted with tiredness and distress. He knows the odds that one of us dies in these next several hours. Goodbye's where never my speciality so instead I shock my fellow tribute with a hug, Alden's strong yet quivering breaths tickle the side of my neck but he doesn't reject my act of tenderness. Once I am done, speaking doesn't mean anything, my feels were expressed in my action. Silently and like a fox I collect firewood allowing Cassandra and Alden to have some alone time. They whisper for good reasons.

I collect small thin sticks with several thicker and chunkier pieces of wood to create the base of our beacon, dry leaves needed can be found anywhere so I don't bother to gather any. I made a little effort to create some sort of warning noise so they knew I was coming and when I emerged from around the tree hiding them, Alden and Cassandra are stood, side-by-side with an inch or so gap between the edges of their shoulders. I triple check the container and parachutes to make sure everything is how it is suppose to be and everything if fine.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask them sternly. Cassandra smiles faintly and nods whilst Alden sucks in a deep and quick breath before coping the simple nodding gesture but unlike Cassandra, he doesn't smile.

"Are you?" he challenges. I smile out of nerves before shrugging, I wasn't sure that I was suppose to be ready for. The likely hood I could die, not really but ready to watch a couple of these smug asshole Careers die, yes I am ready.

Cassandra turns to look at Alden, "How are we going to signal you so you know when to drop the parachute?" she asks us. Sarcastic shock sharpens Alden's face and he gives her a look that is meant as if to say, _how could you forget? _It was the same playful tone he used to throw off our nerves whilst we were discussing weapons and the bloodbath during lunch.

I smile, "Mockingjay tune."

Alden bumps shoulders with me and grins. Cassandra's eyes flicker from me to Alden but she doesn't speak. We plan out where we are going to set the fire, five or so meters from where the tree Alden is currently climbing, from that spot the Career Pack will be directly twenty meters in front of us, we are hidden by a thick cluster of bushes but the fire glowing in the darkness will be drawing them to us, like a moth to a flame.

We spot Alden until he has reached to a fork branch to he can steady himself and hold the parachute ready. Cassandra and I scurry through the undergrowth to the clear patch of land were we create the fire, it doesn't need to be brilliantly made but it must be able to burn for long enough so the Career's can notice it. The use of three matches and half a minute of gently blowing on the kindling, the fire sparkles alive, dry leaves helped make the fire grow and burn brightly.

Breath in, breath out, breath in – reform my lip shape another breath in. The mockingjay tune wisps from between my lips. I held my breath after that as I scan the trees for the parachute. Cassandra is hidden in the bush line watching the Careers, the silver parachute appears in the top lining of the trees.

"They've noticed the parachute, there are two awake." Cassandra informs me.

I move away from the fire to sit next to her and position myself so I can peek through the bushes, Cherish is stood on her thin legs and Jacqueline is sat by the fire keeping warm, both of the female tributes are watching the parachute. Now was the perfect time to more because as far as I have seen so far, neither are a particularly large threat, "Lets move." I tell her, we jog from the bushes, around the outside before heading towards the parachutes that has landed to the far right of the middle of the vacant land between us and the Career Pack.

"There's a parachute!" Cherish announces to the sleeping Careers waking them all from a steady sleep. We stop at the edge waiting for the Careers to take the bait but when I see Garrett I am reminded of the fatal flaw in this plan. He could think this parachute is for him and if he eats the berries, he will die. Maybe I should let him, but then I think to the hours before and how he could of exposed me to the Careers and allowing them to killed me then but he didn't, instead he suggested they move on, to drag them away from mine and Cassandra's scent. I will not let him die, I owe him this.

As the Careers sprint out towards the parachute, I do the same. Cassandra is alarmed by my unsanctioned actions but stupidly follows me through the thick bushes whose branches snag at my trouser legs and overcoat but I am determined not to allow the sharp strikes to my body to stop me. Iris sees me coming through the bushes before the others and is quick to snag the parachute from beneath my fingertips.

My heart rattles in my chest and my breathing is heavy as I come face to face with the pack I refused. Garrett looks disappointed that I have gotten myself in trouble and no doubt feels that he saving my life before was a waste. I wonder if he had known he would see me again, would he have saved me beforehand?

I can almost feel all the cameras in the arena turn to us. I can hear the hush falling over Panem as we are broadcast over every television screen. The allies and a reject from the Careers meet the killers themselves. Betters hold their slips like a lifeline saying little prayers as they wish and send unwanted luck to their favourite tribute, silently begging for them to stay alive.

"Well...well, look who it is," Iris chuckles sadistically removing the parachute from the container and throwing it to the woodland floor, "Our little Princess and the klutz of this years games." she teases, bright light from torches settle on my face particularly blinding me but once the entire group is aware of who we are, the light moves to rest on my chest.

I can almost hear the Capitol's laughter from here. I raise my eyebrows at her not at all bothered by her comment because it didn't faze me. Cato is stiff and Garrett is ridged as they watch me with frozen eyes as they hold the sources of artificial light. Cherish and District 1 laugh as they stand to the side of Iris whilst Jacqueline is avoiding every possible contact with myself and Cassandra, maybe she is wondering where her brother is.

"Who is it for?" the boy from District 1 asks snatching the container from Iris's hand which earns him a glare of annoyance but he doesn't care, the boys eyes shoot from me to Garrett behind him then return back to me with a faint smile. "Tricky," he mumbles to himself, "Which member of the District 4 team is this for." he chuckles to himself whilst opening the container to reveal the nightlock berries.

Cherish removes the cardboard card that lays over the poison berries, the back of the note is gently dotted with the juices from the bait. "It's for her." Cherish says throwing back the card to Garrett who scans it, I feel bad. "How sweet, it's from District 12." she coos sarcastically, she raises her arms in a questioning manor, "And where is your little friend now" she asks with a twists smile, of course she knows the answer to her own question, his face was in the sky.

Anger floods me but I remain stationary with a face made from stone. From behind me I feel Cassandra step closer to me, her arm touches the back of my shoulder blade. "Can we have our container back?" she asks, I hide my glee with horror memories but I am secretly delighted she asked because this will egg on the Careers to think about eating them more and adding to that, they know Waylon is dead, if Cherish doesn't eat some, then Iris defiantly will as she will think that she is eating my thank you gift from the district.

Laughter echoes sharply from Cherish, the boy from District 1, Iris and surprisingly Jacqueline's lungs. The boy from one scoops out the berries from the foam cut out and rests them in the palm of his hands and throws the container violently at us, I manage to dodge the metal object but it hits Cassandra in the forehead which makes the Careers almost explode from laughter. More anger hits me but I predict in several minutes it will be over.

"What about the food?" Cassandra objects.

Cherish raised her eyebrows, "Oh yes, of course!" she squeals happily before her and Iris pinched a nightlock berry between their thumbs and first fingers before throwing them to the ground at our feet. Releasing a fake aggravated growl allowed Iris ego to grow almost too large for herself.

"Eat up girls!" the boy from District 1 chuckles highly. Another high-pitched hiss of laughter echoes from the Career Pack but this time the laughter involved the rest of the Careers – Garrett, Jacqueline and Cato.

Iris's laughter was the loudest which doesn't surprise me, I watch her with hawk-like eyes as she opens her jacket to reveal it's lined with an impressive array of knives. Garrett has averted his eyes from me, he wasn't going to help me now. Garrett stepped forward to take some of the berries from the male District 1 tribute. His eyes settle back onto me for one last time, my face was shaking from tensed muscles. Iris has picked a blade from her selection, a nasty looking curved blade and is playing with the weapon in the palm of her hand, throwing it up and catching it by the blade, throwing it up and catching it by the handle. Beneath my black overcoat, I have also began to trace the handle of a throwing knife, through my jacket I remove the velcro holder from it. I watched as Garrett timidly put his hand to his open mouth, then he looks at me and I shake my head. He pauses, then his hand drops from his mouth but I cannot tell if he has eaten the berries or not.

Then, in the darkness on the eve of the third day in the Eight-fourth Hunger Games, a cannon sounds and a body drops to the woodland ground.

* * *

**A/N: Who do you think died? Review! **


	27. Chapter 27: Goodbye, My Friend

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

**Goodbye, My Friend.**

There is a moment of echoing nothingness. A complete void has been created between us all and we are all separate, one person to them-self. I can imagine the citizens in Panem frantically trying to figure out who the cannon belonged too. In the glistening light of the fire along with the help of the two beams of artificial light from the torches fall to scan the ground for the body so we can see who it is. The light beams fall onto the lifeless body of the boy from District 1, the cannon belonged to him.

A stifled gasp projects itself from a female tributes mouth, "Victor!" the girl – Cherish – half shouts at the corpse. In the dim light, I can see anger fill her body making it ridged and her eyes almost glow with red-hot rage. "You little bitches!" she hisses lunging forward, her large hands positioned on the end of her extended arms out in front of herself ready to wrap around one of our throats.

Cassandra and myself dart to the side so she slips in between us, the whizzing of air sounds from behind us, we are down in the dirt so we don't see what was making that noise but suddenly Cherish releases a grunt before a cannon sounds as her body is thrown backwards. I turn onto my front to study Cherish body to see a beautiful, silver plated battleaxe buried in her chest.

"Run you idiots!" a masculine voice yells from the bushes behind us. _Alden. _Neither Cassandra and I need to be told twice, we kick off the hard ground to sprint off into the thick undergrowth. I listen to the zinging of a blade travelling through the air behind us before a strong stinging pain radiates through the back of my upper right shoulder. I let out a yelp of pain but I continue running, stop now and I will die. My heart beat is loud in my ears but I can hear the footsteps and yells of the Career Pack.

Alden stops to make sure myself and Cassandra go before him so now Cassandra leads us through the undergrowth completely blind as there is no light only shimmers from the ceiling of the arena that create the night sky. My muscles burn with acid and my chest tightens. The Careers heavy footsteps aren't strong but they are certainly there, following us.

A we dart through a cluster of thin trunk trees, a sudden crash echoes in the space, the sound of rope hissing as it's pulled quickly sounds next and before any of us have a moment to process what was about to happen, Alden was removed from his feet smacking his head on the ground before being pulled up into the air. The Careers continue to come but Cassandra stops in front of me causing me to shack into her shoulder, I retract rubbing my nose.

Cassandra's hand shakes as she goes to remove her knife, her breathing picks up into static breathes, "Anastasia, keep an eye out, I can cut him loose." she says firmly but the Careers are too close.

Looking back over my shoulder, the flash lights are being held steady as they sprint closer, "They're close." I tell her sternly, discreetly pushing her to hurry the fuck up with this rescue, but what is when Alden touches Cassandra's face, a real gesture of tenderness.

"Go." he orders.

I raise my eyebrows with disbelief, "We can't, we are a team." I mumble. The veins in Alden's head are beginning to bulge as the blood removes itself from his feed and floods into his head and upper body.

"You need to go." he tells us.

The Career's light is beginning to break through the cluster of trees that masks us. Alden stares at Cassandra who begins to sob and I cannot say that I am getting a little teary eyed myself. Then I watch as Cassandra cups Alden's face in her hands and kisses him. A real kiss. It only lasts several seconds but I feel everything, all the love, friendship and sadness that makes up that gesture. Once it is over, I touch her shoulder but she shrugs me off.

Alden's blood shot eyes connect to mine, "Take her. Keep her safe Anastasia." he tells me. I nod as the hot tears begin to leak from my eyes, before I drag Cassandra away from Alden. I drop to my knees and kiss his forehead.

"Thank you, for everything." I tell him.

He smiles faintly, "You're welcome, Princess."

I smile sadly before turning my attention to Cassandra who has broken into sobs. The Career Pack's footsteps are so close they might as well be on top of us. I hook my arms around Cassandra's arms from behind before dragging her away from Alden, she doesn't fight against me and after several stern shouts from Alden, she flops over onto her stomach to scurry to her feet and we sprint off five or six meters into a small ditch beside an enormous oak tree, hidden by rocks and shrubs, we crouch down and stay still peeking through the bushes.

The Career Pack find Alden quickly, they huff and puff with exhaustion. Cato stands in the middle of the three who crowd around him, Iris to his left and Garrett to his right. Jacqueline has frozen solid into a living statue at the back, excluded.

"An eye for an eye." Iris mumbles.

Cato chuckles, "We would need two, remember."

"Yes, but he killed Cherish. Berries killed Victor." Iris argues.

Garrett sighs heavily, "Can we just get this over with quickly?" he questions.

Iris and Cato laugh at him like he asked the most stupid question ever, must be a District 1 and 2 tradition to torture their victims before they kill them. Make them beg or something stupid but they don't verbally reply instead they study him for a few minutes, no need to rush now because he isn't going anywhere.

Sickness twists my stomach when I see the side of Cato's mouth visible to me turn upwards into a smirk. He then lands a strong punch onto Alden's face making the bone of his nose break before gushing blood that travelled in the space between his eyes and dripped off the top of his forehead.

"Maybe we should make her do it." Cato then suggests turning around to look at non other than Jacqueline herself. His own sister. "It certainly would make a good show for the audience – sister kills her own brother." he says it almost like it should be a headline on the front page of a newspaper. My hand fumbles around to Cassandra beside me who lets out a quiet whimper as her thin fingers link between the spaces in mine and held on tightly.

Iris nods frantically whilst chuckling like an excited child, "Yeah, do it!" she growls at Jacqueline who has began to shake with panic, her hands clench tighter around the silver axe she held. The young girl shakes her head before whimpering, no. They all turn – Garrett, Cato along with Iris now face Jacqueline, their backs to Alden.

Removing a long bladed knife from her knife holster that hung off her hip. Pinching the top of her knife with the tip of her thumb and index finger, she turns it idly with a creepy smile on her face. "It's you or him." Iris tells her. Cassandra's hand clamps around mine tighter, jerking my hand connected to my shoulder where the knife was still embedded. She mumbles a sorry but I am too fixed on Alden to reply.

"Come on, do it!" Iris roars.

Jacqueline stumbles backwards shaking her head, "I can't." she tells the Career's over and over again. Cato steps in as he removes a deadly looking short bladed sword. He smiles softly at Jacqueline whilst seems to make the young girl relax slightly, this causes a pang to bolt in my chest, a mixture of anger and jealously.

Cato's eyes snap Jacqueline into attention, his body was close and the height difference was stupid. "If you don't do it, then we are going to kill you." he speaks slowly, making sure he pronounces each word carefully, "But not until you finish watching us torture him." he spits evilly. Jacqueline's eyes widen in horror. Alden lets out several mumbled yells but we cannot hear him.

I watch intently as Jacqueline Calevi twists her axe in her palms getting a nice tight grip on the object. Iris laughs excitedly before moving aside to stand back between her two male allies. Alden tries to wiggle his foot free of the looped rope wrapped around his ankle but it was useless. He was trapped. "Jacqueline please." Alden begged his sister but she wasn't going to stop now. The Careers threat had gripped onto her.

Steadily, Jacqueline takes her place in front of her brother. Cassandra has turned to stone yet she shook like a leaf, her knuckles are bone white matching her face with huge tears rolling down her cheeks, falling off her chin and landing on the top of my hand. "Do something!" she pleas turning to look at me.

I don't turn to meet her gaze, it's too painful. Instead my eyes are too focused on Jacqueline preparing herself to kill her own brother, her twin. "Like what?" I ask bluntly laced with disbelief. What was I really meant to do?

Cassandra shrugs, "Throw a knife or something." she says.

My mouth drops open, "We are too far away." I tell her. It was true plus with the blade lodged in the shoulder of my throwing arm, my throws aren't going to be as powerful meaning I had the choice of throwing from further away with less momentum behind the knife. Or I can throw from a short distance with more momentum, but until this knife has been removed from my shoulder, it is incredibly stupid me trying anything at this point.

Jacqueline re-grips and positions her axe. Iris is getting tried of waiting and continuously tells her to hurry up, pressing all of the young girls buttons. I am surprised Jacqueline doesn't turn around and axe the younger woman in the face, like her brother had Cherish which makes me wonder to where the anthem is tonight, I suppose the Gamemakers are waiting until the deaths of the night are over. No hovercraft had come to collect the bodies which is understandable as we are still here, they wont attempt to collect the dead until we have vacated the area.

Alden attempts to reason with his sister for one last time. Begging. Pleading. Even threatening but nothing. Not a quiver of pausing. My eyes continue to swell up and release tears but when he glances our way, everything in my body urges me to look away and not turn back until a cannon has sounded but I have seen one person I can about die, my sister was chopped down like he and like her death, I will use his to push myself to survive because I will fight for Maria, for him and for Waylon, for Katniss Everdeen. For every young child who has and is going to loose their lives.

His tears fall of his forehead mixing with his blood, _don't let her see, _his voice echoes inside my head like he is sat inside my skull using my brain as a sofa helping himself to my blood for a drink and lessening my pain.

Time slows down, Jacqueline raises her axe over her right shoulder. Alden closes his eyes ready to accept the strike, beside me Cassandra's sobs thicken into gruff's, the razor like edge glistens in the twinkling light of the artificial light – then, all of a sudden it was like I was inside his head, I could see and witness his last thoughts. The smell of fresh woodland air, fires, the echoing noise of familiar names being called at the reaping, his mothers eyes and dads smile. Cassandra in her interview outfit, me smiling as we joke at lunch. Their last kiss...then nothing – My wet with tears hand clamps over her eyes as Jacqueline lowers the quick moving axe to the side, my eyes refuse to move and I watch the edge cut straight across her own brothers stomach just beneath his navel.

The skin and muscle flayed apart releasing the organs from that section of his body. Both sets of his intestines pop out like a jack in the box, hot blood squirted from the wound. The air heated with the escaping body heat. The slight brings bile climbing up my throat and flooding into my mouth, turning swiftly away from Cassandra, removing my hand allowing her to see Alden. I hunch over to vomit suddenly. My stomach retracts in and out but it's empty.

Sobs mixed with gasp is all that erupts from Cassandra. Then Alden's cannon sounds and her gruff thicken to the point where it is one continuous noise sharply separated by quick intakes of air.

"Better get moving so they can collect the bodies." Garrett suggest.

Iris and Cato nod whilst Jacqueline stares at her work. She is a murder now but her situation was different, it was her own brother she can killed to save her own skin. Everyone who knew this brother and sister back in District 7 just witnessed them turn on each other and I felt ashamed to know it was Cato's idea. Rage bubbles inside my chest for that girl I didn't know and the boy I had fallen in love with. No doubt Cassandra wants to kill Jacqueline and if she gets the chance, I most certainly am not going to stand in the way, simply watch her back.

What remained of the Career Pack vacated through the wilderness, once their lights disappeared from view, Cassandra was gone from the bush, my body lunges forward to try and snatch the back of her jacket but I miss and fall flat on my face. Pain swells through my body from my shoulder as the muscles of my back tighten around the blade as I use my strength to gather myself back to my feet and jog through the small shrubs after Cassandra but I find her in front of Alden's body.

Dropped in front of his body on her knees, Cassandra cries. I don't care about the camera's and neither does she apparently as she opening kissing his mouth which has blood tricking from the corner of his lips. I rub her shoulder from behind as she cries but soon drop to my knees to cradle her as she rests her head in the crook of my right arm – I ignoring the pain – as her body lays across my thighs, I stroked her face with my left hand.

Even in death, Alden looks so friendly, his skin has already faded to a purple-blue colour, his eyes had fallen open to stare at us and he looks so alive, that look I had seen over and over again. That look of knowing and wanting but never being able to have.

I remove myself from Cassandra to cut Alden's body loose. With help from my last ally, we lay him down and do up his jacket to cover his wound before closing his eyes. We are careful, almost as if we were afraid of waking him.

"We have to go." I tell Cassandra, touching her shoulder like I had to Alden when he discovered Jacqueline was a Career Tribute. Of course she refuses at first before mumbling, not to be but to Alden's corpse. I try not to listen but her sobs are loud. "Please, don't leave me – us – here!" she begs. I pull her away from Alden's body as she begins to shake his shoulders with almost an angry aura.

I grip her face and angle her so she has to look at me, "Listen to me. You...and me, we have to let him go. We have to let him go home, to see his family so they can mourn him. They deserve that." I say, my tears alone show my sadness but the edge to my voice shows her I am serious about what I tell her.

Once I have finished softly lecturing her, I stand and wait. Cassandra doesn't reply verbally, instead she crawls around my feet to pass me and kiss Alden on the forehead, a patch that isn't pattered with his own blood before standing up. I smile at her, doing my best to reassure her that we will be okay, then she wonders off into the wilderness in front of us, slipping through the trees like a fox whilst I follow like a herd of elephants. Graceful isn't me.

However before Alden's body disappears from view, I raise my first three fingers on my left hand to my lips before raising them high before whistling the mockingjay tune. Sensing the love in the song, the birds continue the calling through the arena. And as I wonder through the undergrowth I truly realise that Alden wasn't just my ally, he was my friend.

Someone I will never forget.

* * *

**A/N: Please don't hate me. Follow, favourite and review please!**


	28. Chapter 28: Lost Children

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

**The Lost Children.**

The anthem begins not long after the previous cannon and the head-shots of the fallen tributes appear in the sky. District 1 female, Cherish. District 1 male, name is unknown or has temporally slipped my mind. District 7 male, Alden and District 3 female, Eva. Four dead in one night, in the space of several hours.

Cassandra suggests we camp in a place high up but knowing the Careers will be searching for us in the rocky terrain surrounding the arena, I speak against it earning myself a look that could kill if it had the power. We wonder around aimlessly and pretty carelessly for what seemed forever, picking off berries from bushes and snacking on them until we notice a tree, well, we didn't notice it. Cassandra tripped over the trees roots then I suggested that would be a good place to sleep. We would be off the ground and out of the eye line of any predator.

"Oh my God, your back." Cassandra gasps, however it isn't very convincing, as I go to climb the tree. My right arm is restricted as the muscle snags on the blade of the throwing knife Iris had gifted me with. "Let me." she says. I nod, giving her permission to remove the blade. Cassandra places one hand on my unharmed shoulder and grips the knife handle firmly. "Ready?" she asks. I grunt in reply and she takes that as a misguided yes.

I release more than a whimper of pain as she slips the blade out, but it felt a lot better once it had been removed. I keep the throwing knife, might as well.

We don't climb too far up because I am not able too. Eight meters up, at the top of the thick trunk, it splits in two creating a fork, the perfect place for me to settle myself, my legs dangle on either side of the fort as my bottom rests gap of the fork like a seat. Cassandra, some how, manages to climb a little higher to sit on a thick, sturdy branch, the path to her is simple enough for me to get to her if necessary but she needs her space, I can understand but it really sparks a curiosity inside me to her relationship with Alden, was it sudden? Rushed? Like a last minute chance for happiness, or was it love? Like how I feel about Cato, despite my anger towards him I am still glad he is alive. But at what cost is he still alive, at the expensive of Alden's life and countless others.

The high pitched whistling tune of a sponsors parachute causes me to look up sharply sending striking pain through my back, I see what can only be described as pure beauty. A small plastic pot attacked to a silver parachute. It lands in my lap but I still double-check the number engraved on the top, _4_ is written neatly on the top surface, the small pot fits easily in the palm of my hand. Surely it cannot be food, I unscrew the lid to be greeted by the strong scent of medicine. Curiously, I probe the surface of the ointment.

My heart soars, "Oh, Finnick." I whisper, "Thank you." The cost of this medicine must be astronomical, probably not given by one but several sponsors probably contributed to buy this one tiny pot. However to me, it's priceless.

I dip my fingers into the jar and gently spread the balm over the cut on my shoulder-blade. The effect is almost magical and erasing every and any pain. It isn't something you can buy in shops, it's high-tech medicine brewed up in the Capitol's labs. Once I have satisfied myself with the painkiller lotion, I screw the lid back on and put the pot containing the rest of the medicine into my survival pack..

It stuns me how little I realise the hours flick passed before Alden's death stretched out like days but now they seems to simply fly-by like minuets within those countless hours of zero sleep I get very used to Cassandra's sobs and I am sure she gets used to mine.

However now the pain has been erased, all I can do is reposition myself in my bag before I plunge into a light sleep.

Cassandra is a screamer now. Nightmares riddle her whenever she sleeps at night and I am forced to scale the tree to comfort her in any way possible, whether it be a cuddle or me cradling her like a small child whilst talking soothing words to her, anything to draw the attention away from our position and where we're now hiding.

Days four, five and six pass with the blink of an eye, now and again the pain returns to me, but with Cassandra's help, applying light coats of the medicine sent by Finnick keeps the pain at bay and I can move easer. Without Alden we are completely lost. Our diet consists of berries and any other fruit, I lay out traps and snares and thankfully twice we are blessed with meat from a rabbit. Cassandra is silent most of the time and it grimly reminds me of our lunches in the Capitol. It is too painful to speak of our passed, unbearable to talk about the present and too realistic to speak about the future where if we are lucky, one of us will be alive.

Without Alden making us laugh in the darkest of times, being supportive like a counsellor and a team leader keeping us alive, we are lost – nothing but children trying to play soldiers. Completely lost in the darkness. Without Alden Calevi, Cassandra and myself are simply lost children awaiting our deaths.


	29. Chapter 29: Unrest In The Capitol

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

**Unrest In The Capitol.**

_Day seven._

We have lasted a week inside this arena and I've lost two friends. Three days without any excitement I suspect the Capitol is getting very restless with no brutal killings. Cassandra and I scatter around from tree-to-tree, setting out and taking down traps and eating the winnings. We haven't heard nor seen anything from another tribute but considering there are only five of us left – seven including ourselves – I don't really expect to run into them. The arena was incredibly large, almost an entire days run back to the Cornucopia from here, who knows how long it would take to walk to the other side, not that I was planning on walking there anyway.

It was early, dawn had broken free over the horizon and light flooded through the trees decorating the sky with dark oranges and light yellows added with dashes of red. That morning I had left Cassandra sleeping on her branch whilst I went to check the traps surrounding us. A white haired rabbit was waiting for me in one of my snares. I skinned and gutted the creature and cooked the meat slowly away from our tree before wrapping it up and taking it back to our hideout to wake up Cassandra with the smell of food. We now eat our breakfast in complete silence, personally I wouldn't want it any other way because good morning conversations don't really happen very often. Especially not here.

Suddenly, everything goes silent. The wind dies down and the small noises from creatures stop. I hear fluttering, like the pages of a book being blown by the wind, but there is no wind. The air is soundless and still apart from the flapping, it was almost like there was no wind, but I can still breath. A shadow swoops overhead, then something lands in front of me. A black raven the size of my forearm turns its head and focuses it's beady red eye on me.

"Cas?" I mumble as the bird squawks furiously.

Something lands on my shoulder, its weight alarms me but I remain still as the prick of talons, I fling my arm toward to shake it off then my cheek grazes across something smooth and fragile. A feather. Turning my head, I focus on the large bird that turns to focus on me, it's eye is ruby red. I grit my teeth and hit the crow with my hand, it squawks, digs it's talons deeper into my flesh and doesn't move. I cry out with frustration more than pain.

These aren't ordinary ravens, these are much larger and far more confident than any ravens I have seen, these birds are mutations. Capitol creations made in a laboratory and released into the arena, targeted at the tributes to spark a bit of entertainment for the viewers. These creations won't kill us, not when there are four aside from myself and Cassandra, that wouldn't be much of a show but they can injure us severally, taking out eyes if that can get a good peck.

I hit the bird with both hands but it stays in place simply digging into my shoulder. The ravens wings spread out to keep balance as I fumble to pack my stuff but the bird in front of me begins to peck at my hands with its sharp beak. Snatching away from the creature, this knocks me off balance and I fell to the ground in a heap but I am slightly thankful for this because the raven has released my shoulder, which was a relief.

"Anastasia!" the squeaking voice of Cassandra echoes through the air followed by a thump, I run to the side of the tree to help Cassandra to her feet. She was also had been injured by the ravens. Cassandra's face was cut with several talon marks across her forehead and chin.

We stand still, but I have nervous twitches where I cringe away from the ravens despite non are on me but many have landed on the trees surrounding us. Cassandra pulls on my arm, I glance at her to follow the line of her eyes up to the sky. A huge flock of deadly looking ravens with large wingspan's dive downwards towards us, an army of outstretched talons and open, razor sharp beaks, each one releasing a high-pitched squaw.

"Run!" I announce the obvious move to Cassandra who really doesn't need any telling as we sprint through the thickening undergrowth, a crow reattaches itself onto my shoulder, pecking at every area of my face: my chin, forehead and cheeks. The fresh wounds sting in the open air.

Annoyance fills me as the birds peck at me and their talons clinging to my clothing, stupid Gamemakers are their unfair mutations. No doubt this was due to the complaining of the Capitol as they grow bored, it's a shame you cannot die of boredom because that may have put a stop to these Games if you could. The citizens were probably claiming that these Games are verging on the edge of dullness. That is one thing the Games must never, ever do.

Despite Cassandra's screams of pain, we don't stop because if we do they will swarm us and the damage will be greater than if we continue to move. I groan with agony as the ravens talons slice across my skin like a knife through butter. My entire body throbs with faint pain. The ravens flap harder, roaring in my ears as my arms flap around like a large winged animal. My hands hit solid, feathered bodies but my strong hits do nothing; there are too many. Their soft feathers glide over the back of my neck as their feet tearing at my hair. I can't breath, every time I gasp for air; my mouth fills with black feathers.

Peeking through the gaps in the birds flapping bodies, Cassandra and myself haven't been in this part of the arena before, not even whilst we are hunting with Alden. There was no sizeable rocks to hide under nor any place to take shelter. Where are the Gamemakers driving us? These ravens were designed to flush me and Cassandra out of hiding, to drive us and the other tributes together. It may not be the most original device I have been used in the Games, the Gamemakers usually use jabberjay's which they inject fake copies of the tributes voices speaking to lure tributes together.

The ravens turn to a new level of violence as they swoop down trying to impale me and Cassandra with their beaks. I swift right and left whilst ducking to dodge the diving birds. We burst out of the woodland into an open space, beneath my feet the soft woodland floor turns to rocky stones.

I twist and fall to the sharp rocky ground, covering my face with my arms. One raven burrows under my arm to peck my broken nose, blood drips onto the rocks. Another raven pecks at my ribs whilst sharp talons snatch my body causing my to scream out in pain. One of the ravens beak wedges passed my lips and scraps at my teeth, it pulls away once I attempt to bite it, cutting the outer corner of my mouth.

"Ana!" a feminine voice screams my name, I peek through the gap in my forearm, knocking away the birds whose beaks are patterned with my blood so I can see Cassandra who is waist deep in water.

Crawling like a toddler, the ravens still continue to peck, scratch and gouge at my flesh through my clothing towards the cool water. Laying on my stomach in the cold water, my body is released of all sudden pain as the pokes and digs stop abruptly. The attack was over. The squawks fade away into silence and normality floods back, the small whistling tunes of mockingjay's and natural noises of small animals.

I turn over to lay on the bank of the small pond, my head rests uncomfortably on the rocks but I didn't care because above me there is clear blue skies, no clouds and no large ravens. Cassandra rushes over to me and lays beside me, I sit up with difficultly but I manage and look at my only ally, her face was awfully butchered, her cheeks on both side are sliced – not deeply – with talon and peck marks, her lip was sliced as well as the skin on her forehead and chin. The sensitive flesh at our necks was scratched also.

I wash my hands in the water before running my fingertips over my face, for defiant my forehead is cut with several sets of talon marks, my left cheek has suffered worse than my right, three thin cuts were set from the edge of my temple to the skin across my cheek to line up with the middle of my eye. From the right corner of my mouth, the cut runs to my chin.

"Are you okay?" Cassandra breathless voice asks from beside me.

From my mouth, an awkward chuckle releases itself as I lay still catching my breath, "I'll live. You?" I ask her, I am concerned about her health, both physical and mentally because I understand.

My ally shrugs, "I'll be okay."

It was a moment of strangeness when suddenly Cassandra and I begin to laugh as we look up at the sky. I don't think either of us could really decide what the laughter was for, nothing was particularly humorous so I come to the conclusion that our laughter was a result of pure relief. The ravens hadn't ripped us to pieces and we had found a source of water. It was a double win, aside from the throbbing pain that gripped my entire body as I lay flat on the uneven rocks.

"Do me a favour?" I ask Cassandra whilst struggling to sit up onto my bottom. Cassandra's face hardens in an awkward way as she begins to wonder what I could possibly ask.

Her lip shimmies over her bottom lip, mopping up the blood, "Erm, sure?" Cassandra replies.

I raise an eyebrow, amused by her innocence, "Keep an eye out." I tell her before getting to my feet, beneath my body weight, my legs wobble. I strip off my jacket and survival pack to set them out of the water before removing my shirt so I stand in the ankle-deep water allowing the entire nation of Panem to see me in my black sports bra but I really don't care. My torso and back are covered in three clawed marks, edging the cuts have gone purple. I soak my shirt in the pond water before using the shirt as a cloth to rub down any place that has been cut by the mutations, it stings but at least I am cleaning my wounds.

"Your back!" Cassandra gasps from behind me.

I turn sharply to face her, "What's wrong!?" I ask suddenly hit with panic and even attempted to look over my shoulder to study the wound myself. Cassandra steps into the water to trace the edge of the cut with her fingertips.

"Nothing," she mumbles in amazement, "The stab wound, it's almost healed."

A smile peeks across my face and I am suddenly more grateful to Finnick than I originally was. The medicine he sent me must have had a speeded healing element to it, aside from pain relief. I turn to look at Cassandra as her laughter is cut short. "How is that possible?" she asks me, suddenly cautious.

Quickly, I hand her my t-shirt which is also cut due to the ravens and jog through the water to my survival pack, I opened and removed the pot of medical ointment before beckoning over my ally and instructing her to remove her upper lays of clothing. I understand why she is slightly embarrassed, the entire nation of Panem gawking at her particularly naked body but she doesn't object, wounds need healing and if that means showing a little skin then so be it. Cassandra is skinny, her ribcage is neatly defined against her skin and her stomach dips in instead of out.

I dip my fingers in the pale purple ointment and gently smearing it on her wounds. Cassandra flinches away from me the first few times I touch her but I guess that's natural, however soon she understands I am not going to hurt her and relaxes. I make sure to treat all the wounds on her torso but she doesn't have many, the birds mainly attacked her face which is where I spend the most time treating. Then she offers to treat me and I allow her despite not needing her help but it is good to show her that I trust her like she should trust me.

Once she has finished smearing me with healing lotion, we re-dress ourselves. We sit at the waters edge, relaxing and refilling our water bottles with the pond water and for the first time in a week, our water bottles are filled to the brim. It is murky water but the filters inside the plastic bottles will ensure the water is safe to drink. Neither of us have the stomach for food but we must eat, starving ourselves would be stupid considering we have food. The left over rabbit is tasty but as soon as it hits my stomach, bile climbs my throat. It is sour but meaty.

I don't think much of it. The Gamemakers hadn't killed us, that wasn't their intent so I don't waste my thinking on something so small, I had thrown up when Alden was killed but that was explainable, seeing another human being being sliced over as their organs spring out was enough to bring the food even from the most steel-gutted of men up to their mouths.

The Gamemakers don't want Cassandra and I dead. Not yet anyway. Everyone knows they could destroy us all within seconds of the opening gong. The real sport of the Hunger Games is watching the tributes kill one another. Every so often, they do kill a tribute just to remind the players they can. However the use of mutations, whether it be birds or something else, it is used mostly to manipulate us into confronting tributes face to face. Which means, if the birds have really gone and Cassandra and I are no longer being attacked, that means there is at least one other tribute close at hand.

Screams echo through the trees and I stand abruptly, with no pain I can more close to excellently but if I wasn't crumbled by weakness that the hunger has brought upon me, I would have been close to pre-Hunger Games standards but unfortunately, I am not.

Cassandra follows my actions and stands, I remove three throwing knives from my holster wrapped tightly around my thigh and hold them steady. Birds fly over head of the trees edging their way closer to the clearing where we stood. With our clothing and survival packs readjusted around us, we shuffle back into the safety of the water. Paused ready for anything to come our way. This was the Gamemakers plan, pushing tributes together, but how many are there? Just one that has broken off the Career Pack and the Gamemakers have decided its a better death this way. Or maybe they have flushed the entire fucking Career Pack our way to finish what should have been put to bed four days ago.

The agony filled screams continue, Cassandra and I stay put and sure enough, two tributes are pushed from the wilderness, large black ravens are pecking and scratching at their skin and they stumble blind towards the waters edge before knocking them to their knees. Then the birds disappear allowing us to see who the identities of these tributes are and I couldn't help but silently thank the Gamemakers for one of the tributes they have blessed us with.

Cedric Hammond and Jacqueline Calevi.

My movement was quick, as soon as Cedric moved I released a throwing knife from my hand which embedded itself in the base of his throat, Cedric stumbles over his last words before yanking our the short bladed knife and drowning in his own blood. Jacqueline froze as she met our eyes, anger flooded though me for this girl it was almost uncontrollable, but I silently had given Cassandra the ownership to this girls life if her come face to face with her. The Gamemakers must want us to have her.

A cannon sounded which must have belonged to Cedric once he had finished drowning in his own blood. Jacqueline gets to her feet and jerks to start running away, with ease I throw another knife at the moving target that pieces her calf muscle of her lower left leg. She is throw forward by the sudden inability to run and lands at the edge of the clearing.

Cassandra and I sprint to Jacqueline's who is shaking with pain, the ravens had certainly had a good munch on her and is cut rather severely. She rolls onto her back to look back up at us, her eyes are filled with fear but I don't feel any sympathy towards her. Fuck her.

"Please..." she mumbles, "Please don't kill me..."

Cassandra chuckles firmly with no real humour, she then turns to me. "Where have we heard that before?" she asks me rhetorically.

Using what little acting skills I have, I raise my index finger to my mouth and I pretend to think, "From a boy... black hair and green eyes, real nice boy... what was his name?" I ask Cassandra keeping up with our little mind game.

Beside me Cassandra snaps her fingers and pretends to rattle her brain for an answer she already knows, at our feet Jacqueline's sobs have thickened as she knows where this whole play act was going and building up too. "The name escapes me." she says to me before turning to look down at Jacqueline, "Can you remember his name?" she asks.

A cry of pure agony and regret wails from her lungs. She raises her hand to wipe her eyes but I crouch down to grip the handle of the blade to twist it slightly. I smile, its sick, yes but this girl deserves no less. "Come on Jacqueline, surely you can remember. You killed him." I remind her.

"Alden." she whimpers.

Cassandra claps her hands together, "Yes! That's his name!" she says in fake relief and remembrance. "Do you remember what you did to him?" Cassandra asks, still standing up, if she was down here Jacqueline would be no less than a bloody pulp.

Jacqueline squeaks. I turn the blade.

"What did you do to him?" Cassandra repeats.

Miss Calevi turns away from us. "You killed him." I tell her.

"I had no choice!" she objects.

I shake my head, "Yes you did. It was really simple, don't kill your own flesh and blood –"

"– If it was you hanging from that tree, Alden would have given his life to save you!" Cassandra growls.

Jacqueline shook her head, "No."

"Yes." I argue nodding my head. I retrieving the blade from beside Cedric's body and cleaning the knife on the shirt clothing Cedric's corpse.

Jacqueline was clever, she knew she couldn't run from this. Since that moment her brothers cannon sounded, she has been haunted by the idea of me and Cassandra coming to avenge him.

"Make it quick, okay?" the girl at our feet asks.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the girl, "Quick?" she asks before shaking her head firmly. "Karma's a bitch, and you've had this coming since that night." she snapped viciously.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Do you agree with Cassandra taking her anger out on Jacqueline or do you think she went a little too Career with the taunting? Please review and voice your opinions!**


	30. Chapter 30: Karma's A Bitch

Chapter Thirty.

**Karma's A Bitch.**

I remove my blade from Jacqueline's lower leg allowing the hot blood to begin to pool beneath the wound on the uneven rocks. Using the girls own short, I wipe away the blood and slip the blade back into my fabric leg holster before standing up and turning away from her but not walking away before I pat Cassandra on the shoulder making her wince slightly but she relaxes to my touch.

"She's all yours," I tell her, my eyes drift down to Jacqueline who has been terrified stiff, "Make her pay for it."

Cassandra smiles lightly before nodding, I stalk off from the pair of them and take a seat at the waters edge. I remove my survival pack and take out my water bottle. Gulping down the filtered liquid, I feel satisfied and calm as the live saving liquid circulates my body but a unmoveable layer of nausea sits heavily at the pit of my stomach and it wasn't due to the sounds of fists meeting skin mixed with pain filled groans. Had I eaten something funny? I watched Cassandra drag Jacqueline to the waters edge by her ponytail when I am hit by the most sudden and violent wave of sickness which explodes from my stomach projecting vomit like a hose from my mouth. I groan once I had finished several wrenches later, using my tongue to swirl around my mouth to collect a mixture of the foul bile with my saliva before spitting it back out onto the rocks.

"You all right?" Cassandra asks me from across the small pond. I look up to see my fellow ally straddling the middle of Jacqueline with the back of the teenage girls head on the water whilst her face is floating above the waters surface. Cassandra's hands are curled in the collar of Jacqueline's black overcoat.

I nod, "Yeah, I'm fine. Must have eaten something odd." I tell her whilst waving a hand at her to urge her to continue taking care of Jacqueline. Cassandra gives me a odd smile before she begins to drown Alden's sister in the pond.

Like the third-wheel of a date, I sit to the side and keep myself to myself because it's easier than getting involved but I am shocked by the aggressive nature of Cassandra as I sit watching, gently sipping at my water. I roll my eyes as Jacqueline pleads Cassandra to let her go but my ally replies to the girl with a punch to nose which echoes a breaking noise to erupt from the area. I flinch slightly remembering the strike to my nose during the fight with the female from District 11.

Compared to Alden's death, I could already tell that Jacqueline's wasn't going to be nearly as exhilarating for the crowds in the Capitol and in the districts but it will be worse personally for Jacqueline as Cassandra has decided that drowning would be the cause of Jacqueline's death. I say decided, it wasn't much of a decision. Cassandra flinched and squeaked every time I gutted a rabbit so I assume blood really isn't her strong point and there is water easily assessable.

I can't say I watched the slow minutes that leaded up to Jacqueline's cannon sounding. It may sound sickening but there wasn't much entertainment in it. Cassandra slapped her about a bit with a little fight back from the girl beneath her and then she drowned her in the shallow water, during that process where was a lot more fighting back but nothing the entire of Cassandra body weight couldn't handle as she sat on the back of Jacqueline's shoulders with her hands pressing on the back of the girls head to keep her head submerged.

My stomach twists oddly as every now and again Cassandra would ease up on her push so Jacqueline could get a tiny bit of air in her lungs before being re-submerged. I am shocked by Cassandra's strength, was this how she managed to get an eight in her private training session?

She looks over at me and smiles, it's a twisted and evil smirk but I smile nervously back and give her a thumbs up. Cassandra's smile only grows in size in reaction to my gesture and presses hard on the back of Jacqueline's head and holds her there. Water is splashed as Jacqueline flicks her arms violently in desperate attempts to knock Cassandra off but it doesn't work, her weight has the young girl pinned no matter how much she kicks and waves.

I pick out my knife from my pocket and flipped the blade out to study it because I had never really studied it before. The handle was short and made from hard plastic held together by two screws, one in the top and one at the base the blade itself was only four inches big made from stainless steel, the cutting side was incredibly sharp and could easy flay through my clothing if it wanted but of course I would like to keep my clothing for as long as possibly but the ravens had ruined them anyway.

As I slip water from my bottle, being careful not to gulp because the last thing I wish to do with be sick again and wasting the food I have hunted; water I have scavenged. A cannon sounds making me jump, embarrassed by my fight, I rise to my feet as Cassandra removes herself from the body of Jacqueline who's upper body which was submerged in water now floats on the surface.

"Sure that was for her?" I ask kicking Jacqueline's leg. Cassandra nods but I would rather be one-hundred percent certain and so I remove Jacqueline Calevi's body from the shallow waters and dragged her onto the dry stones before rolling her over so she faced the sky. Surprised too how much she resembles her brother in death, the same dark hair and green eyes along with gentle skin which has been tinted blue.

I kneel down beside her and touch my index and middle finger to a certain spot on her neck where typically you can feel a persons pulse but for Jacqueline there is nothing, not a flicker of movement.

Cassandra looks down at Jacqueline, her first kill of this years Hunger Games. The only kill that mattered to her. Jacqueline Calevi's death claims her the number seven spot in the death countdown but that is nothing to be proud of. I imagine their mother crying because now she had lost both her children but I do not salute to show affection or feelings towards this tribute because that is reserved for people who show courage. Jacqueline did not.

As the number of living tributes decrease, the more dangerous the Games become. This is due to you letting your guard down because you are less likely to run into another tribute, they are more likely to be stalking you and then attack you because otherwise no one would die, it's a too big arena for sometime to run into another completely by accident.

Cedric and Jacqueline were not accidentally lured into the clearing, it was the Gamemakers intent to place us four together, Cedric was simply collateral damage in the mix, another tally next to my name in the Capitol, but unlike my previous two kills, I didn't mind his death beside my name. It was quick and neither participially painful for either of us.

Five tributes are still left inside this arena and for the Games to end, four must die leaving one, the victor. But who is left out of the twenty-four that started out: Cato, Garrett and, ugh, Iris. Plus Cassandra and myself. Our enemies have been laid out for us. But when I glance over at Cassandra, I begin to wonder how long I can truly wait until she turns on me. Or worse, what if I turn on her?

* * *

**A/N: Ta-da, Jacqueline is dead. What do you guys think of Anastasia's illness? Do you think Cassandra will take advantage of her weakness or will she be caring about it? And last of all, do you think Cassandra is a threat to Anastasia? Voice your reviews!**


	31. Chapter 31: The Mysterious Illness

Chapter Thirty-One.

**The Mysterious Illness.**

We don't hover around the two dead bodies any longer than necessary. Cassandra and I make sure our water bottles are filled to the brim before we exit the clearing into the new woodland. We hadn't adventured into this section of the arena before and it was all brand new. Large trees, brushes that sported berries and plenty of fresh animal tracks. We find a nice tree to stay in, chunky with strong branches, tall enough so no one or nothing could get us during the night. Cassandra picks berries whilst I set up traps as since my little throwing up incident earlier, I am hungry but as I am, another wave of sickness strikes me but this time there is no vomit, simply the unpleasant feeling you get if you remain in a vehicle too long.

From then on I make sure to come up with some excuse and move away from Cassandra when I feel like I am going to be sick, however sometimes there isn't much space between feeling and being sick and I end up vomiting in front of my ally. She offers to make me herbal tea that is made up of comfrey root and meadowsweet and I kindly accept, anything to stop this storm in my stomach.

However, for some reason, maybe it's the Hunger Games nerves or just a fear of appearing weak but I feel as if Cassandra is making notes on my condition, a illness leads to weakness and within weakness there is flaws meaning I am more suitable for death. A part of me feels that Cassandra is more likely to kill me by allowing me to eat a poisonous berry or herbal tea rather than to kill me with a knife or some other weapon considering throughout this week Cassandra only took her first life. Or maybe she actually cares about my well being, I am protection for her and until she sees no reason for me to hang about, I assume she will offer any kind of medical care or advice until such a time, but even then, a week plus four days training adding with all the talks and strange cuddles to stay warn, I wonder if she really could kill me. Or I her. Cassandra, like Alden, is more than a just a ally to me, they are friends and due to our current situation we were all shoved in, we have probably bonded better than most friends because of our untimely death looming over us every minute of the seven says we have been here.

Together we watched one our friends die. To her I really am not sure what Alden was, a boyfriend or last spike of happiness before we are set here, sometimes at night I think about asking her but I keep seeing that fragile little girl that has two left feet turned to this killer before my eyes, the punches she was delivering to Jacqueline had a lot of power behind them and truthfully I would not want to be on the receiving end of those hits. But why would she hide her strength from me? Was Cassandra really trying to be a new Johanna Mason? A coward until the competition slows down?

Rabbit for tea goes down a treat along with a side salad of wild berries. I miss Capitol food, really badly at this point because everything begins to taste bland and boring. Berries. Rabbit. Berries. Rabbit, sometimes we don't even get rabbit so it's just berries. I begin to imagine how oddly humours these games would be if they ran a buffet in the middle of the starting field. Tributes drowning each other in bowls of soup or beating each other to death with bread rolls.

As the sun begins to set over the horizon and once again the horrors are masked with the beautiful calming colours of sunset. I find a nice tree with large features and height to its branches before crawling up it like an obese squirrel to the seat-like structure in the hollow of the top of the trunk where the branches have begin to split. This was much comfortable because I could curl up like a worm and lay in the large pan at the top of the trunk. Cassandra who is a little more comfortable with the branches picks one opposite me, its willow limps is structured like a ramp so when she lays down, her upper body is angled suited for sleeping.

In the mist of the night, the ground covers itself with fog which lingers in the air like smoke but there is no discomfort that carries along. It adds to the horror aura which the Gamemakers tries so hard to keep up in every single game, it doesn't matter who they are scaring as long as it is a good show.

The flat plate of the top of the tree trunk sinks in to the hollow tree several inches allowing me to lay down and be hidden, added with the effect of the fog which I am unsure whether it is actually a danger or not. In the night, as scheduled, the anthem plays and the faces of the two fallen tributes – Cedric from District 9 and Jacqueline Calevi from District 7 – light up the sky. My heart races in my chest as now there are only five of us left, myself, Cassandra, Garrett, Cato and Iris.

Anger flushes in my cheeks when I think of Iris but the look on her face once Victor had eaten those poisonous berries was pure happiness too me, but my heart flutters when I think of Garrett, my district partner. My piece of home, but at least he is alive. I am not sure what I feel when my mind wanders to Cato – happiness, sadness, annoyance, possibly hatred and well, love.

Over the side of the tree, I am sick once again. Water mostly which means Cassandra's herbal tea is now back where it started, in the nature. It is almost like Cassandra awakens just to see my weakness because she is there, slid down the branch to hover over me, checking if I am okay and even patting me down for injuries. Personally, it really is irritating but I say nothing, stupidly.

As I lay back into my sleeping bag like a cocoon, I cannot help but fear it may be something worse than food poisoning. Maybe an infection had set in from my stab wound before Finnick had sent the medicine, or the raven claws had some sort of poison on them that transferred when we were cut, but then surly Cassandra would be sick as well. She isn't. It has to be food poisoning but the same factors would apply, Cassandra would be sick as well, she isn't. What else can it be?

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's a short one but can any of you think of a logical explanation for Anastasia's sickness or is it simply misguided food consumption? Review.**


	32. Chapter 32: Advice From Family

Chapter Thirty-Two.

**Advice From Michael.**

In the dampened surroundings of the night where the atmosphere is filled with Cassandra's snores. The high pitched note of a parachute echoes through the air, I peek through the branches of the trees to see the glistening of silver metal. I sigh heavily as the metal life saver switches direction away from us. Damn. I lay back down, using my survival pack as a pillow and close my eyes.

A sharp hit radiates from my forehead forcing me to open my eyes to be greeted by the glorious sight of a silver parachute, the metal pot is set in the center of my forehead allowing coldness to relax my tensed skin. I can hear the sniggers from the Capitol and Districts as they react to be being hit in the head with a metal parachute. I sit up slowly trying not to disturb Cassandra and I remove the parachute hooks from the pot which is later than the pot before, this one is larger than the size of my palm. I unscrewed the lid to see a smaller pot is rested inside with a card resting on top, I removed the card to scan the words carefully.

_For your stomach. Dig for the truth from your ally – M._

Michael! Oh thank the lord he is looking out for me. I look up to smile thankfully, Finnick is probably furious with Michael because I am not his assigned tribute. My life in the arena is my mentors responsibility. Finnick's responsibility but I am thankful for Michael's concern, but I am glad aside from that, I wasn't being paranoid about Cassandra, my victor of a brother also thinks I should question and be wary of my ally who may or may not have hidden certain strengths from me.

I unscrew the lid, to release the steam entwined with a rich smell. Hot liquid fills the pot with a small metal spoon attached to the back. I dive in without much regard for anyone else, the soup is hot and it burns my tongue but I don't think they would expect me to wait until it's cooled down. I am starving. It is beefy with a hint of minced vegetables, the thick gravy is so good that I am incredibly upset when I have finished and even go as are as being a savage and licking the pot clean. I lay back with my stomach full and warm.

Silently saying a thank you to Michael, I reread the card. _Dig for the truth, _echoes in my brothers voice inside my head. I do need to figure out if Cassandra is a threat, but how? Just asking her would be the most logical thing, but she can lie if I ask. Maybe I should try dig out the truth another way. Cassandra is snoring and motionless. Now she isn't a threat but tomorrow is another day filled with dangers we cannot predict, so tomorrow I will figure out whether or not she is a threat to me but I hope she isn't because I would hate us to turn on each other. For one of us to do something we regret.

With my fingers wrapped like a vice around the handle of my blade, I fall into a light sleep but I am uncomfortable, riddled with nausea I cannot seem to shake but at least I am not being sick. The lids of my eyes flutter shut but I am scared of Cassandra. An eight in training is impressive but even with the knife showing I showed her and the knowledge she has of edible plants and herbal remedies it just doesn't fit how she got that score. I suppose she will show me when the time comes.

* * *

**A/N: Apologise for the shortness of this chapter but I felt filler would be nice, plus Anastasia gets to hear from her brother so that's nice. Review!**


	33. Chapter 33: Digging For The Truth

Chapter Thirty-Three.

**Digging For The Truth.**

I awake before Cassandra which isn't unusual because I am normally awoken by her screams but last night she slept rather pleasantly as far as I could tell. No screams for help and no pleading for Alden to stay with her. She was silent from falling to walking, if we set aside her snoring which happens to be worse than Michael but who am I too judge really. I tend to talk...and dribble.

Leaving her sleeping, I go to start my first job at the beginning of every fresh, new day. Check the traps. I am surprised to find this morning a porcupine trapped in one of my scares instead of a rabbit but really I have no idea how the hell to prepare a porcupine for eating. I suppose we simply skin and gut it like you would another animal.

The spikes covering the animal pick my fingers until they are numb with throbbing pain. Using my knife to cut away the skin to reveal the animals pale flesh followed by cutting the animal from the navel to the base of the throat to remove it's inners. The porcupine smells horribly and the odour doesn't fade once the meal is cooked. I double check the meat to make sure it is well cooked, reducing my chance of another cycle of food posioning.

Cassandra is not in our tree when I return and suddenly, a almost parental panic washing over me gripping my entire body making me throw my survival pack which contained the porcupine meat in a small break in the hollow of a tree next to ours before running after her. Shallow whispers of her name leave my lips as I scan the small area surrounding where we have been hiding.

My knife is clutched in my hand ready, paused to strike anything and anyone that poses a threat. Slipping around the trees and stalking through the bushes like a bloodhound I find nothing of my ally. _Cassandra where are you? _A voice inside my mind hissed angrily as I look around but only to find nothing. I sigh, hiss and even stomp my feet like a hormonal teenager. Then I hear the rustling of bushes.

Turning sharply, I move into a area crowded with bushes, similar to the ones Cassandra and I hid in when we were listening into the career packs plan. The movement of whoever the person was radiated like heartburn in my knee caps making them feel weak and sick. Vomiting sick but I hold it in. sod being sick now. The legs of the person are covered with similar fabric to mind making them virtually unrecognisable or hard to pin an ID on them, but they are certainly skinny enough to be a woman or a thin man but judging by the look of the people left. It has to be a girl.

Knife at the ready, I pounce from the bush, dagger aimed for the soft spot of the back, ready to pierce the skin. I see the back of the persons before I see the front. Gentle brown hair tied up in a sleek ponytail, the ends are dull and spit. The girl turns sharply to reveal her identity to be Cassandra, who jumps like a cat caught in the headlights. Her eyes are widened with shock and all of a sudden, she reacts.

A left hook which I block with my forearm, I jerk my elbow forwards to knock her in the face. She stumbles for a second but regains herself and continues to attempt to attack. She swings a right hook, then a left both I manage to block by raising my hands over my head protecting my face with my forearms. Non of her hits are going to inflict damage. I punch her in the face splitting the skin above her eyebrow.

Blade still in hand, I push her swiftly against the trunk of a large tree, I can hear Seneca Crane give orders to another Gamemaker, telling them to prepare a cannon but I simply rest the tip of the blade pierces the skin against Cassandra's ribs as she pants heavily.

"do it quick, okay? Anastasia." she says.

I raise an eyebrow, "Is this how you got your eight in training?" I question.

Cassandra stares at me with odd eyes that flicker as blood trickles into her eyes before shrugging, "it contributed." she replies.

The tip of my blade is removed from her ribs then I chuckle, "Well done." I told her, from that small moment, I could tell she wasn't a threat to me, granted she could throw a decent punch but they are weak from lack of training and direction. Something maybe I can help her work on because of I am to perish in this arena, I would like her to win.

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks.

I laugh, "No, course not." I assure her, Cassandra eyes narrow at me in surprise, "We're allies remember?" I jokingly ask. She chuckles and rolls her shoulders once I have moved my body from hers allowing her space to move. I slip away my blade with haste.

"Why are you out here?" I ask, "It's dangerous."

"I know, it was stupid to wonder off but –" she then reveals a fresh bagful of berries, plump sizes like marbles with a range of pinks and red. Non nightlock.

I grin, "Meat and berries for breakfast then." I announce as we walk back to the tree, shoulder-to-shoulder. I retrieve my survival pack form the safety of the hollow tree.

Our breakfast is set out on the plastic sheet I secretly managed to slip from Alden's survival pack before we left. A large quantity of the berries are laid out with the abdominal meat from the porcupine. Our breakfast and we waste no time in diving in, stuffing our faces but I am careful not to force myself to eat too much, to avoid the sickness feeling.

Cassandra sucks the bones clean of any traces of meat before throwing them to the ground away from us. A handful of berries are shoved into her mouth before she has had time to swallow the porcupine meat. The cut from her eyebrow has begin to clot itself.

I feel guilty about it but she hasn't given me the cold shoulder about it so I feel less guilty than I would if it was my brother or Finnick. I search my survival pack for iodine and bandages, not that I intend to wrap her face us like a mummy. Cassandra remains unknowing of my actions until I had knelt up beside her drenching a ripped off section of the bandage in iodine and pressing it to the cut on her face without giving her any warning.

Cassandra hisses and attempts to bat my hand away but I remain firm and keep my hand dabbing the injury. Thankfully, sooner rather than later, Cassandra catches on that I am going to do this whether or not I have her consent and she goes back to stuffing her face with wild berries and meat.

"How did you learn to fight like that?" I ask her, "I didn't think District 10 had any facilities for training."

To be fair, I am quite unaware of most things that happen outside District 4 because of my upbringing. The reputation that surrounds District 4. Finnick Odair and his unique victory, the career tributes, pre-game training. Everything people are believed to be District 4 are filtered through us at school and how we must continue this brilliant reputation. Fearless and powerful but seriously, we are just children pretending to be soldiers.

"My father." Cassandra tells me.

I raise my eyebrows, "Your dad taught you how to fight?" I ask.

Strange, my father only taught my how to fish and throw a blade but never to fight, I learnt that from the endless arguments with my brother that usually ended up with trips to the hospital for stitches. If we were lucky it was something dad would bandage up and it would heal on its own.

Cassandra bit her lip between her teeth, "I watched him beat up my mum." she reveals.

My heart stops, "What?"

she licks in the inside of her top lip before turning slightly so she can face me. I keep the iodine covered bandage on her the cut. "My father is a drunk and he would beat my mother when we struggled with money which was a lot." she tells me, "I watched him, the way he moved. The power behind the punches and the damage embedded on my mums face."

My eyes have widened and my mouth hung open like a flap. "I'm sorry." I tell her, unsure of what else to tell her. How do you react to that?

"No, I'm sorry I didn't help her." she says, the edges to her voice quiver as her eyes begin to water with salty tears. Then I realise that Cassandra and I aren't so different, we both have regrets would couldn't stand up too someone and fell into a love that was never to continue beyond these weeks. Losing something important is something we have in common but Cassandra has already lost hers. I have only lost friends, true friends that will never be replaced by anyone. Not even Leila. But I haven't lost that person that means more than my brother to me. Cato, that asshole will get a good punch, maybe a knife to the arm for Alden's death and I ashamed to love him because of his part in Alden's death but could I kill him if we came face-to-face? He would kill me, the difference in size is absolutely stupid. One punch and I am knocked out. Hold my nose and mouth shut, I am dead in a matter of minutes.

Without a thought, I clamps my hands around Cassandra's head and bring her in for a tight embrace. She doesn't resist or tug away, instead she craves it and hugs me back, her soft sobs are masked by the fabric of my coat. Here we are broken children and there is no harm in crying.

Discarding of our mess which mainly contributed of berry pips and bones. We pack up the remaining of the porcupine meat and wild berries in the same plastic sheeting before putting it away in my survival pack. We advert backwards back to the pond to refill our water bottles before heading through the trees, both holding long sticks to poke the floor for scares and traps. Since Alden's death, not knowing who planted the trap we are extra careful not to end up in the same position as he did.

We stop around noon to eat lunch, the remainders of breakfast. I feel surprisingly better than I did before, no over sickness and no projectile vomiting which is good. I allow Cassandra to wander off, seeing that I now no longer have to see her as a threat. She goes to collect more berries because you can never have enough. We decided on keeping the mockingjay tune as our communication line and vowed not to use in case one of us was in trouble.

I seat myself at the base of a thin tree snaking on berries from my survival pack when a beautiful golden hare catches my eye from across the way. I throw a few berries expecting the hare to run a mile because of my movements, let alone stand there whilst I throw berries but the animal stayed put. After a minute of assessing whether or not I was a threat, the hare moved forwards to accept the berries, eating the ones furthest away from me first before building up the courage to come closer to me.

One hand gently shaking berries to the woodland floor whilst the other removes one of my throwing knives. Meat is meat and you cannot pass up any food in here. However as I aim my knife at the juicy hare and as I go to release the killing instrument, a mockingjay sings a melody to me. The hare sprints away and I attempt to throw my knife after it but the blade misses and embeds itself into the ground. And that's when I hear the scream.

Its the scream of a young girl; there is no one in the arena capable of making that sound except Cassandra.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, what's going to happen ;) Review!**


	34. Chapter 34: The Lullaby

Chapter Thirty-Four.

**Lullaby.**

I am running, knowing this could be a trap and knowing the three Careers may be poised to attack but I cannot help myself. In the fogginess of my mind, there is a high-pitched cry but this time it's my name, "Anastasia!"

"Cas!" I shout back, so she knows I'm near, so they know I am near. I pray they acknowledge that I am the girl who contributed to the death of four of their fellow Career Tributes, the girl who out-shown them in training scores and the girl whose name has already been known to the Capitol already. I pray that these small facts will be enough to pull their attention away from Cassandra. "Cas! I'm coming!" I yell.

As I break into the clearing, I trip and fall. I am engulfed in dry leaves and sticks that poke and prod me. The wounds covering my body erupt in pain due to the rough surface and sudden movement. Once I have stopped rolling, I lay flat trying to gather myself back up but my lungs appear to have decided my body is not worthy of oxygen.

Wheezing and gasping I roll onto my front to scan the clearing where Cassandra's calls for me had originated for me from. She was stood in the middle of the tiny clearing looking at me from a meter away, her long knife is drawn and held up with her eyes soulless as she peers at me through her thick eyelashes. Her cut face as been tinted purple where the wounds begin to heal.

She wasn't in any trouble, this was a trap. I moved backwards as she steps forward.

"No, Cassandra." I plead as I attempt to gather myself to my feet but my limps roared with acid. Cassandra doesn't say anything instead she steps forward once again closing the gap between us slowly. I manage to gather myself to my feet and move but something was tangled tightly around my ankle, she had trapped me. The trip was intentional

"Stay still." Cassandra whispers, the blade glistens in the sunlight. I attempt to wiggle away but the rope restricted me and she continued to steps towards me, blade at the ready to slice me. To kill me. "I'll make it quick, I promise." she tells me.

"No!" I spit trying to move away, "Don't do this." I plead but she doesn't listen, she has become twisted with the Games. Cassandra just has time to press the blade of her knife to the base of my throat and say she is grateful for my help before she spews blood over my face.

Unlike the first time, the second time my face was splattered with blood that wasn't my own, I am not overly repulsed and I move aside to allow Cassandra's body to fall into the dirt to reveal a platinum trident sticking out from the middle of her back. I scan the surrounding's because this means there is another tribute out there but I can only think of one who can wield and throw a trident with such accuracy.

Garrett Larkin.

Inside my head, he still remains a zero threat so I remove the trident from Cassandra's back, one look at the various wounds inflicted on her by the tridents spikes, I know it's far beyond my capacity to heal, beyond anyone's probably. I turn her over to see that blood seeps from the corners of her mouth and gently brims her nostrils. She is still alive but barely and I cannot leave her to die alone, despite her trying to kill me simply moments before, she is still my ally.

"I'm sorry." she chokes spraying blood over the rim of her bottom lip so it patterned her chin with droplets. I move closer to her, pulling her head on to my lap but I say nothing. "Don't go?" she questions me, her voice has become shallow and ill.

"I'm staying here." I promise her.

Cassandra looks up at me sadly studying my face with awkwardness. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." she tells me quietly.

"Shh." I tell her because I couldn't really think of anything else to say. The Games had latched onto her so tightly she thought I was the enemy and that is terribly sad that a little over a week was the time that it took to have an effect on her. I tuck a strand of her dry hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek gently to lie that I take any of it too heart but of course I did. My ally just tried to kill me but I really hate the Gamemakers. However right now isn't the time to think about the Gamemakers, they aren't worth a fraction of my worry.

"Sing." she tells me, but I barely catch the word.

Sing? I think, _what can I sing?_ I only know two songs which is surprising that music is a large part of District 4's culture. Celebrations for the Hunger Games, for summer fairs and Christmas. Parties that stretch throughout the entire district with food and dances. But the only songs that truly stuck in my head was sung by Katniss Everdeen when we friends, Rue, was dying, it's called The Meadow Song and I cannot sing that for Cassandra, stealing Katniss's song won't bring comfort to anyone because it isn't fair and again it is disrespectful. However I do know another, it's called Lullaby.

I cannot sing, it's almost embracing how much I cannot sing but it's my allies last request. I give a small cough as my throat is cry with panic, swallow hard and begin:

_Go to sleep, rest upon your bed,  
May this night bring dreams to your head,  
Hear my voice, never let it die,  
Keep this lullaby._

Cassandra chokes of the hot blood that stuck to her dry throat. Her eyes stare up at me whilst her chest only moves slightly. I expect tears to slide from my eyes but they don't, I put that down to the fact that Cassandra had attempted to kill me moments beforehand.

_Soon the sun shall set on, long it will be 'til dawn,  
Never from you will I be gone._

From between my eyelashes, I watch a figure remove itself from the edge of the clearing but it hasn't completely come out of hiding, I can feel the person's cold gaze that shutters over my body like a ice blanket.

_Once we met near the garden stream,  
Hold on to the words of my dream,  
Carry on, rid this world of fear,  
Now the time is near._

To me, the final words are barely worth speaking because Cassandra's chest is hardly moving but I am a firm believer of if you start something, you should finish it and so I muster up the courage to finish to lullaby.

_Though we will leave our past and our distance vast,  
Fate shall unite us soon at last._

Then her cannon sounds in the silence and yet there still is no tears. I pick up the trident and throw it, incredibly lousy towards the figure stood in the tree line, the metal weapon reaches the tree line but not the actual person. The person picks up the weapon and steps into the clearing. It is Garrett and his face is stripped off very and all emotion.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

I use my sleeve to wipe away the still warm blood from my face, "I'm fine." I say bluntly but the anger radiates through me at a dangerous pace. My ears burn as I feel people talking about me. The Capitol no doubt. I can hear Cassandra's mother cry and her father grunt.

"Why are you so angry?" Garrett asks me with annoyance.

A fit of sadistic laughter hits me with a strangely strong force, "Possibly because you just murdered my last ally." I screeched at him whilst pointing my index finger down to the dead body of Cassandra whose eyes remain open and staring up at the sky without any reaction to the gentle breeze.

Garrett copes my previous actions and releases a hiss of sarcastic laughter, "She was going to kill you, Anastasia." he tells me.

"I could have handled it." I argued.

My district partner licks the inner rim of his top and bottom lip, "Oh yes, I'm sure you could have, between catching your breath, pleasing and getting tangled." he tells me through another spit of laughter.

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Fine!" I growl at him. "Thank you for saving my life." I say to him.

He smiles, but it's small and carries no real emotion, he twists the trident in his hand before turning slightly whilst pulling his arm backwards, "Iris is after you." he warns me, I look around trying to decipher whether he is giving me a warning and Iris is dangerous close or he feels it necessary to point out to be what I already know.

"Are you still with them?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "I left shortly after I saw Jacqueline and Cedric's faces in the sky, knowing the number of us was going down, I would be the first easy target for the District 2 pair to take out." he explained.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "How have you been?" I ask, genially considered but it would be slightly nice if he was doing worse than I because then I could feel slightly more human. Garrett half-heartedly shrugged as he kicked a pile of dry leaves at his feet.

"I wish I had paid more attention to those survival stations during training." he admits. A flicker of pride sparks in my chest, knowing he should of followed my lead and kept to the survival stations.

I remove my pack from around my shoulders and transfer several pieces of porcupine meat into the bag which carried the berries Cassandra and I had collected in the morning. I half my food so in each protective cover, there is the same amount of food. Packing my half away into my survival pack, I take Cassandra's bottle of iodine, matches, water bottle and her knife before throwing the food at Garrett who catches it.

"That should get you through the rest of today." I tell him before lacing my arms back through the pack straps and moving it about so it sits comfortably on my back. Garrett opens and rises the bag to his nose before whispering a thank you. I smile at him.

"Good luck, Princess." he says with a small smile.

"Hey!" I call as he turns, "Where are the Career's now?" I ask.

Garrett turns to face me, "Last time I caught sight of them, they were down near the mountain range opposite the trail of the Cornucopia." he tells me,

I grin, "Thank you."

Then Garrett Larkin leaves the way he came, straight ahead from me. The Gamemakers no doubt are getting anxious and want me to leave and before they send a mutation to move me, I kiss my first three fingers of my left hand before raising it up to the air. It had debated whether or not to do this for Cassandra, seeing as she had attempted to kill me but she was my ally and I know how it feels to have the games twist you. They take everything you are these Games, your sanity and emotions, they can turn your friends into your enemies.

Cassandra was a friend but she was corrupted by the Games. For that, I will never forgive myself because I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Alden or Waylon. I couldn't save any of them and now I am alone. Now there are only four tributes left in these Games and three must die before these Games are over. Three more parents must brace themselves and prepare to watch their children die.

Quickly, I remove the small packets of food from her survival pack. A selection of dried up dates and another packet of dried beef strips. I push them into my survival back before I begin to walk away from Cassandra's body, wondering how long it would take for the others to find me. If Garrett Larkin wasn't going to kill me. Iris certainly would be the first to slice flesh first. Maybe I would be ready for when Iris did come to claim my life or maybe I wouldn't be ready. Only being faced with the danger will determin how I stand against another but until then, I need to find somewhere to hide.

And then I leave Cassandra's body laying flat out on the ground, her eyes are still open but she is dead. The single call of a mockingjay tells me about the incoming hovercraft. I stand still to watch Cassandra's body being removed, the metal claw carries her body up, her arms spread out wide beside her head. The door of the hovercraft engulfes her body before closing and disappearing out of sight. She is now gone and starting her jounrey of going home to District 10.

Perhaps she will get to see Alden again, somewhere distant and beautiful. We can all hope there is something after death but until I greet death with a smile, I won't know.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry, please don't hurt me. I know the singing part is already done by Katniss but I felt it fits with the situation. Review please!**


	35. Chapter 35: Alone

Chapter Thirty-Five.

**Alone.**

I have no idea where to go, my feet wondered aimlessly in this direction until sunset. I'm not afraid, not even watchful and this makes me an easy target, expect now I'd kill anyone I met on sight. Without emotion or the slightest tremor in my hands because I may be dead already. My hatred of the Capitol has not lessened my hatred for the other competitors in the slightest. Especially Iris, at least she can be made to pay for a fraction of Alden's death but really only Cato's death can balance Alden because it was his idea. I am angry at Garrett because he had killed Cassandra but he did save my life and was she really worth saving? From the vacant look in her eyes, she was gone from these Games before the trident ended her life, but with only four of out of the twenty-four that started remaining and the large arena we have been dumped in – soon enough the Gamemakers will pull out some other device to force us together however I secretly pray it isn't crows.

I climb into a chucky trunk; large branched tree. Low enough so I am not at risk of seriously hurting myself if I was to fall during the night, however I am high enough to be safe from others but also high enough to escape the world below. Soon the seal of Panem is projected into the sky whilst the anthem plays in the night. I see Cassandra's face with District 10 written across the bottom and that's it for tonight.

Back home in District 4, during the nights after a day when things have gone particularly bad, my brain will give me a happy dream to focus on, some sort of stress relief: a visit from my sister or an hour of sunlight with my father fishing. This technique my brain has created to help me hasn't faded during my time in the Games, tonight it sent me Alden and Cassandra, we are sat happily in the mountain with a fire keeping us warm as we stare up at the sky which is brightly lit with stars. I see no wounds or blood on either of them, they are simply happy and smiling children. We make jokes and whistle our mockingjay tunes without worry that another tribute will hear us because we are alone, but it a peaceful way. Throughout the night, we joke, sing and talk, on and on. Through the night, there's hazy in-between periods when I can hear the last few strainers of Cassandra's singing and Alden's laughter but also the night-time life of the arena. When I'm fully awake, I am momentarily comforted and I try to hold onto the peaceful feelings of the dreams but it quickly slips away. Leaving me feeling sadder and lonelier than ever.

Heaviness infuses my entire body like there's liquid lead in my veins. I've lost the will to do even the simplest of tasks such as hunting, all I do is lie here sipping at water and nibbling my food. Staring unblinkingly through the leaves, for several hours I remain motionless. Strangely, not even the anxious faces of Michael or Leila can coach me from this spot on the branch.

There are four left. Twenty are dead, I didn't even know the name of the girl from District 11 and I killed her without a thought. Somewhere her family is weeping over her, she is probably home now, all cleaned and sewn up with a simple cream coloured dress clothing her body so she looks pretty, almost like she is sleeping but of course she isn't. Her friends and family call for my blood. Maybe she had a boyfriend who really believed she would come back, she was strong and did get a Career Tribute standard score in her private training session, but then I think of Waylon, Cassandra and Alden's bodies, fragile boned, their skin pale purple/blue with tinted lips and which those thoughts, I am able to banish the girl from District 11 from my mind. At least for now.

**xxx**

Days nine, ten and eleven pass without realization. No cannons make me jump and no faces light up the skies, I wonder how long we'll get until the next Capitol mutation drives us back together. Today – day twelve – is no exception. I stay put in my tree until the new dawn of a new day has completely passed, then I go in search of water. I discover a small puddle which connects to a small stream, I don't worry about the cleanness because the filters will sort the dirt out for me. Using natural resources such as reeds, I set out a few snares and traps but I am greeted with nothing and so my body is weakened with hunger. I would be useless if Iris was to catch me now with no strength to fight back nor the accuracy to throw a knife. Over the days I had eaten the bag of leftover berries and porcupine meat along with my packets of food aside from the beef strips because even the sight of those make my stomach feel queasy.

Then I am hit with the sight of my sister Maria and from where I am sat up high in the trees, it's almost like I am watching the entire event of her death like I am another tribute in hiding. From the attacks quick movements and strong physique, I can tell this tribute hails from District 2. I can tell this tribute is female by the sleek brown hair that is pinned back into a high ponytail held in place by a thick band, on either side of her face are elfin like ears and when she turns to look around, the tribute reveals thin slitted eyes with hazel eyes. Her nose is crooked and her lips are thin. She is very familiar, with the same crooked smile and blood-lust as non other than Iris Castillo.

My heart misses several beats as I lean in to study the kill, not that I needed a rerun of it. I remembered my sisters death very well. A glistening silver blade cuts the base of her fingers, Maria's blood freezing screams as one by one my sisters fingers are removed from her hand on national television. I remember crystal clear my brother dragging me away as my mother screams at me that it's my fault and wishing it was me but I can't take my sisters place because, well, I am in my sisters place now. Facing death by another child every minute of every day. Our screams against each other are so horrendous to the extent the neighbours came round to help separate us. I can't help her now, but I can avenge her, Iris Castillo is still alive.

An eye for an eye. A sister for a sister.

It was then I realised that sitting in my frozen state, I was twice as likely to be killed and so to kick myself firmly into gear I allow my brain to give my body simply commands to follow. Little tasks such as, _you have to drink water now _and _you need to check the traps now. _I act on the orders with slow, robotic movements. I sort my pack because I can hear things clicking and clattering. Resting the objects on my lab, I count and make a mental note of what I have left; two packets of beef strips, two water bottles – both which are full – two miniature bottles of iodine and bandages sets, two small metal tubes of matches which I managed to squeeze into one, discarding the other in the hollow space in the tree. My fingertips trace the flat surface of the gift from Michael, the medicine. It was less than a quarter full, not really worth keeping but medicine is medicine and it could be useful later possibly.

I rolled up my sleeping bag and settled it at the bottom of my survival pack before slipping the two water bottles either side of the sleeping bag to hold them in place, I then pile the rest of my belongings on top of the soft surface of my sleeping bag. Clutching the pack to my chest, I begin to question the Capitol's excitement or did they know something we – the tributes – did not. Was something coming?

I laced my arms through the straps so I can wear my survival pack they way it was intended. I've lost my bearings with all the useless wandering around I did during the three days prior. One out of the four traps I had set actually has caught me something edible. A baby plump baby rabbit, so the metal is thin for its age but quite a good win for one of it's size but it's food. I gut and skin this innocent creature before cooking it on a freshly built fire, not caring about the excessive smoke. _Where are you Iris? _I wonder as I roast the rabbit. _I'm waiting for you. _Once I had cooked the food, I ate the majority before collecting berries but considering Cassandra is no longer around to tell me which ones are save and which ones are not. I only scavenge a few, keeping away from most of the berries, just in case.

Three left beside me; Garrett, Iris and Cato. Now it's District 2 .v, District 4 – suddenly I am hit with the stupidest idea ever, that maybe I could actually win these Games. Stay hidden until the other tributes beat each other too death but if there is to be another set of mutations to funnel us all together tonight, I want to get some sleep. I climb up another tree once again, staying in the fork structure so I could lean backwards and rest properly.

I collapse into a light sleep but I am awoken not long later by the sound of trumpets causing me to sit up straight in anticipation. This wasn't an ordinary anthem leading up to show us the faces of the dead because there wasn't any deaths to report. The trumpets continued on for a little over a couple of seconds before being joined by drums and violins. This was an announcement, something rare inside the Games.

"Attention tributes, attention," the strong voice of Claudius Templesmith booms down from over head, congratulating the four of us left who remained before moving along to the main reason for the announcement, "Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia at dawn but this will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something desperately and we plan to be...generous hosts – you will find something in a backpack marked with your district number. Think hard about refusing to show up, for some of you this will be your last chance." says Claudius. There is nothing else after that, just his words hanging in the air, fiddling with my mind.

_You all need something desperately. _Maybe the sickness bug I had contracted from the spoiled rabbit was more serious than I thought or maybe the talon and beak marks over my body had cut deeper than I could have imagined. As I think of the endless list of things I could need compared to what the Gamemakers are willing to give me, I start to wonder what the other tributes could need from the Cornucopia. Garrett, his pack is no doubt filled with food mostly high protein and mineral soup but what about the District 2 pair? Food or medicine? Shelter or weapons? No, defiantly not weapons, they're Career's always armed.

I settled back into my comfortable position, sleeping tonight was going to be a challenge but if I wanted to stand any chance tomorrow against the other tributes out there, I want to have at least a little energy, even if it's enough to run away with, anything is better than being completely helpless against Cato, or even Iris.

Personally, I hope that inside the pack is food, something or everything that won't make it's way back up my throat in a odder colour it went down but I guess I mustn't expect too much from the Gamemakers, if they were caring they wouldn't be in this profession, but I guess I won't discover what hidden dangers and life saving objects are waiting for me until dawn.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, the feast. I wonder who will attend and will this years feast live up to it's reputation of bloodshed? Review and tell me what you think, if you do? Who do you wish to perish? **


	36. Chapter 36: Special Feast

Chapter Thirty-Six.

**Special Feast.**

A shudder of ice cold air passes through me waking me from a rather comfortable slumber. I evacuate the tree and seek new shelter in the hollow of a old tree of a near by tree whilst checking the traps I had set out before sleeping that night. I make a small meal out of the rabbit caught in one of my snares and refilling my water bottles. I roasted the rabbit inside the cave, maybe a little too well before eating the entire creature as my gut feels so much better plus I am starving. From one bottle, I drink and savour the life perceiving water whilst with the other bottle I clean my weapons as some revoltingly have dry blood hiding in nooks and ridges. I have six throwing knives, a medium sized blade that I had taken from District 11 and the knife Alden had swiped Cassandra from the Cornucopia during the bloodbath.

Here are the things I am fairly certain of. That I'm going to have my hands full because if Cato goes after the pack, he will no doubt wait near the others until Garrett or I come to battle him for them and Iris will be hanging around somewhere nearby, rooting around the outside trying to flush the others out. My ability to kill from a distance using my throwing knives is my greatest asset but I know I will have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack, the one with the number _4 _on it that Claudius Templesmith mentioned, this leads to my fear of this feast, how will Garrett and I tell our packs apart, we are both District 4. It isn't dawn yet but I still scan the sky, praying that they may have missed a death but no. Tomorrow night there will be faces up there. Feasts always result in fatalities.

I look at the moon that still glistens amongst the black like a beacon, I couldn't sleep and I'm suddenly thankful for all the moping around I had done beforehand because I had rested enough to keep me awake so I use this time to my advantage. Target practise. The trees around me reminded me of the training center, if you stood in a certain spot the targets surrounded you opening up different targets for quick fire lessons. Something I never tried in the center but I had watched Iris many times.

She never misses.

I stand central to the trees removing my beautiful knives. Deep cleansing breaths inwards and outwards, twisting the blades in my palms. Then, in a quick motions I release the blades, the sounds of metal meeting wood makes me gleam with happiness and when I go to retrieve the blades, I count the hits. Five out of six hit their assigned tree but one designed the trees weren't good enough and embedded itself into the ground. I re-clean them and slip them back into their home before taking several more sips of water then finding somewhere to go to the bathroom. Fucking Capitol broadcasting me while I take a pee, I could die for their entertainment, at least have some respect and privacy when nature calls.

Through the treetops I watch the moon cross the sky until what I judge to be three hours before dawn. I begin final preparation, double checking my throwing knives before slipping the large knife that originally belonged to Cassandra in my belt-loop and zipping the other folded up blade into my sock, just in case I am disarmed every other way.

I wonder off towards what I think is the Cornucopia but I cannot really be too certain because where I am in the arena still remains a mystery to me. After ten, close to fifteen minutes of walking, my brain give my body the simple command to muster all the courage I have in my body up and climb a selected tree to the top. Whilst discovering I actually enjoy it, I scan the arena to see the pointed tail of the Cornucopia glistening in the moonlight. I needed to head north-east.

My breath makes small white clouds as it hits the air. Zipping my jacket to my throat and pulling my hood around my face my coldness is reduced but once again the feeling in my toes has gone completely and the tips of my fingers are tinted blue. The woods looks different at night, everything has an unfamiliar aura to it. As if the daytime trees and flowers and stone had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places. I don't try anything tricky, like taking a new route. I move as fast as I dare but being blinded by the night I can feel my footing weaken, I see nor hear any sign of another tribute, not a puff of breath, a quiver of a branch or a snore or yawn.

The night wanders on without thought and I move without consideration of stopping and once I reach the thick lining of trees surrounding the bloodbath field housing the Cornucopia or the others positioned themselves last night I'm the last to arrive. There's still more than an hour, possibly two before dawn breaks and so I wriggle myself into an undergrowth and wait for the blood to begin flowing.

I nibble on berries close by, considering they are growing on the bush in which I hide. I see no harm but my body is riddled with loose nerve endings and something light after the rabbit is all I can handle but I am full. Eating when I'm bored is a habit I must have brought from home.

Time passes in a stumble. The sky turns a misty morning grey and still there's no sign of other tributes. It's not surprising, really. Everyone has distinguished themselves either by strength or deadliness. Possibly the District 2 pair think I have Garrett watching me, I guess that's all better if they think he's covering me when I go in for the backpack.

I move forwards to look through the tree-line, but where is it? The arena has lightened enough, I can hear the morning birds singing. Isn't it time? For a second, I am panicked that I'm in the wrong location. But no, I'm certain that I remember Claudius Templesmith specifying the Cornucopia. And there it is, thirty meters away and there is nothing. No feast.

And just as panic swells up in my chest, as the first ray of sun glints off the Cornucopia, there's a disturbance on the plain. The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a snowy white cloth rises into the arena. On the table sits four backpacks, two large packs, one yellow marked with the number _2 _and a blue marked with the number _4, _a medium-sized blue one with the number _4 _and a tiny yellow one – which I could carry around my wrist – that must be marked with _2_.

The table had only been clicked in place for a minute or so when a figure darts out from the tree line to my right and snags the large blue pack marked for District 4. Garrett Larkin! He shoots off with large strides towards the opposite side of the field. He has us trapped because no one wants to chase him down, not whilst our packs are still sitting there vulnerably on the table. Garrett must have purposefully left the other packs alone, knowing that stealing a pack which belongs to another would definitely bring on pursuers. That should be my fucking strategy! Huh, I was dreading Cato and Iris but maybe I should be a little more cautious of Garrett. By the time I have pushed through the whirlwind of confusion, surprise, anger and admiration another tribute has emerged from the trees and is throwing glistening silver blades at my district partner. The tribute is female, Iris Castillo.

Without any hesitation, I sprint towards her withdrawing a knife from my leg holster. Iris is too caught up in the adrenaline of adding another kill to her name to hear the blade travelling through the air before it's too late. The blade buries itself into the target, just off the center of her left shoulder blade. Iris yelps in sudden pain before stopping abruptly scanning the area for the attacker, for me. Garrett peers back and I gesture using my head urging him to leave.

"Stings like a bitch, doesn't it?" I mock from across the gap. From my holster I have collected two other knives whilst watching Garrett disappear into the trees, well out of range of any weapon. Even a bow and arrow. Miss Castillo turns to face me, her eyes are red with anger and wanting. I can sense the danger like a nearing fire, the knife comes first whizzing in on my left side, twisting right I manage to dodge the blade successfully. I throw one of the two blades in my hands but this time, Iris ducks and the blade zips over the top of her head merely nicking the fine hairs. I throw the other blade but she is too close and I know it'll miss and my opponent slams her body into mine, knocking me flat to the ground. She grapples for my arms which is a mistake because she isn't protecting her face and I throw my head forwards to crush her nose with my forehead. She groans through the pain as her nose leaks blood like a garden hose dripping onto my chest but she doesn't care, the adrenaline that pumps through her veins makes her twice as deadly. Iris releases one of my arms and punches me in the temple, my vision whitens at the edges as I try to adjust to the effects of the punch because this fifteen-year-old has an incredibly strong hit. Iris dumps her weight on my middle so she sits steadily pinning my arms to my sides with her knees.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Iris purrs opening her jacket to give me a close up look at the array of knives. She carefully selects a small blade with a cruel, curved blade. "Cato put up a fight about allowing me to have you, but it's too late now." she chuckles before surveying my face, tilting it from side to side as if it's a block of wood and she's deciding what exactly to carve on it. "Wow. You really do look like your sister." she mocks, I twist and wriggle with rage as I release strange grunting noises from my throat but Iris's body holds me still to the ground. "I wonder if she would be upset, knowing that you're going to die as pathetically as she did." Then, Iris presses the edge of the blade to my lips, digging the edge between my lips to set it carefully at the left corner.

_No, I will not die here, _I think to myself and with my rage and sudden burst of energy. I bring my right knee up to jab it into the lower section of her back forcing her to naturally bend forward to avoid another hit. Fighting against her weight I remove my back slightly off the ground and extended my neck to bite, viciously the bridge of her broken nose. She screams as my teeth sunk into the flesh lower down her nose either side of her nostrils but she retaliates by sinking the cruel blade into my shoulder, causing me to release a whimper of pain myself. Iris's body weight shifts allowing my arm to slip and my hand to move freely. I remove a blade from my thigh holster and sink the two inch blade into Iris's right thigh,

Iris removes the blade from my shoulder as her force on my arms entirely weakens and I manage to wiggle them free and take a large handful of the hair from the back of her head before rolling her body off me and swapping places. Like she had to me, I sit on her chest pinning her shoulders with my knees. Iris wriggles and arches her back, all in a desperate effort to throw me off but her efforts are worthless. A strange pain tingles in my left hand as well as my shoulder as the adrenaline fades slightly undoing the barrier between me and pain. As myself and Iris were rolling, the little bitch must have droved her small blade into the top of my left hand.

I pull the blade free from my hand without much effort, thankfully the blade hadn't travelled very deep into the flesh. "Thank you." I tell her without much thanks. I am enraged by her comment about my sister however if she wanted to bring up family. I can do that because her sister never won the 80th Hunger Games.

Iris snarls at me like a predatory animal before screaming at the top of her lungs, "Cato!"

Curling my bloody hand into a large fist, I jab it into her windpipe, very effectively cutting off her voice, "Iris, Iris, Iris." I tut looking down at her. Trapped and helpless but there is a large chance that Cato could be nearby guarding her or hunting down Garrett. My eyes dart to the table sitting in front of the Cornucopia, mine and the pair of District 2 packs are still waiting there but I think I have some time to make this satisfying enough for me to cope with another tally to my name.

I turn my attention back to Iris, slipping the corner of the blade into her mouth, resting the razor sharp edge against the corner of the right side. "Not so fun when the boot is on the other foot." I say tugging at the blade to indicate what I mean. Iris struggles in an effort to unseat me but it's no use. I am too heavy and my lock on her was too tight.

"You seem to remember my sisters death, but do you remember how your own sister died?" I questioned, beneath me, Iris struggles against me but I keep her flat, "He sliced her throat." I tell her slowly, as if she had forgotten whilst removing the blade from her mouth before tracing the blade against the delicate skin of her throat. "Then, as she died slowly, he carved his name into her face." I snarl removing the blade from her throat to her face, the small part of her cheek below the right eye. The same place where the male from District 1 carved his name into Iris's sisters face.

I return the blade to her mouth as I watch her eyes widen with hate due to the harsh reminder of her sister. "Just do it already!" Iris screams at me, the blade deepens into her mouth but I laugh hardly, my chest hurts by the sudden action however I continue to laugh at her.

"I'm not going to kill you like this," I admit, "That's cowardly, I want to kill you with my hands but lets give the audience a good show before one of us pegs out." I chuckle before throwing the knife away and removing myself from the body of the fifteen-year-old beneath me who automatically struggles to her knees.

Wanting to kill Iris with my hands was true, but really, I could of just strangled her. Maybe it's possible for me to still have emotions, killing Iris without giving her a chance to defend herself is somewhat unnerving however if she was attacking me, killing her would simply be a reflex I won't mind.

I shuffle backwards a meter or so as I watched the child. Iris pushes herself to her feet to stare at me. Iris's nostrils flared with anger and her eyes were sunken. "Are you ready for this?" Iris asks me rolling up her sleeves and removing her survival pack, along with a sleeping bag and loose weapons. I copy her actions, removing my survival pack, leg holster and loose knives however I keep the hidden knife in my sock.

Grinning, I reply, "Are you?"

Listening to the people in the Capitol collect drinks before hushing their voices. Two families in the Districts are now on the edge of their seats as Iris and I stare each other down. We both have injuries, me more than her but thankfully I've had help from sponsors to treat that but the stab wound in my shoulder is fresh and so is the stab wound to the back of her shoulder. My breathes were static as I study the female tribute, she stands at five-foot-four – same as I – with muscular arms and legs, plus years of training. I feel sick and stupid at suggesting this but if I'm going to die in here, I might as well go out with some dignity.

"Let's get started." I growl.

* * *

**A/N: Until next time, my loves. Iris vs Anastasia, which team are you? Review! **


	37. Chapter 37: Iris vs Anastasia

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

**Iris vs Anastasia.**

Iris bounces on the toes of her petite feet with her hands clutched into strong fists on the end of her muscular arms. She'll make the first move. She always does. I've watched her in training with the assistance on hand if you wish to practise hand-to-hand combat. Iris always attacks first.

Iris stepped towards me and throws her weight into a punch. As her body shifts forwards, I duck and drive my fist into her stomach, just below her diaphragm in the chest. She moans and before she can get her hands on me, I slip past her with my hands up protecting myself, getting ready for her next attempt.

The smug Iris has vanished and suddenly she runs at me like she's about to tackle me, I block her punch with my forearm. The blow stings horrendously but I refuse to acknowledge it. Iris grits her teeth and lets out a frustrated groan, it was strangely more animal-sounding than human. Iris tries a powerful kick at my side, which she hit strongly. However I grip the ankle of her leg and whilst she is off balance, I force my elbow up into her face. Our bodies are close enough and Iris manages to get a couple of strong hits to my ribs, I stumble to the side, recovering my breath.

There is something she's not protecting, I know it. I watch Miss Castillo for a couple of seconds, her hands are too high; they guard her nose and cheeks, leaving her stomach and ribs exposed. Iris and I have different flaws in combat. Force of habit moulded by Michael who taught me to keep my ribs and stomach protected because the important organs are there, being punched in the face was simply a price to pay, but thinking about it, Michael never fully punched me in the face like Iris will. Light and gentle jabs was Michael's style.

Our eyes meet for just a second – Iris's eyes are filled with Career blood-lust. This girl is going to kill me.

She rushes towards me, carelessly. I aim a low uppercut. Just below her bellybutton. My fist sinks into what little fat she has, forcing a heavy breath from her mouth that I feel against her ear. As she gasps, driving her elbow into my back, I sweep-kick her legs out from underneath her, and she falls hard to the ground but her grip on my jacket remains strong as we plan, Iris on bottom and me on top, sending a cloud of dirt around us.

Iris Castillo suddenly erupts with power and releases a violent wave of punches and elbows to my face and ribs. Hot blood trickles around my lips and my chest tightens as suddenly the will to breath is too much.

_No, I shall not die here. Not now. Not by Iris. _I grunt angrily with myself. Mustering up the courage and will to deal with the pain sure to follow, I plant the strongest head butt against the young females head, knocking her partly out of consciousness but a part of her was still awake and present. A stomach turning sounds of bone cracking echoes on impact.

Iris turns and crawls across the grassy field away from me like a terrified insect, stalking towards her because using her jacket to turn the young woman over then grabbing a nice handful of her hair from the top section of her head to pull her into a sitting up position then yanking a bit higher to coach her onto her knees and thankfully she can keep her own body upwards.

Balling my cut and bloody hand into a fist, I drive it without emotion strongly into the side of her face, "That's for your stupid threats and comments!" I hiss venomously with a slight hint of sarcasm. Iris blinks repeatedly to attentively regain vision.

I gather her face in my hands before throwing it downwards whilst bringing my knee up so they meet with such force any unbroken bones in Iris's nose are now completely obliterated causing her to breath from her mouth only, "That's for my sister!" I scream as emotion and all the rage I have towards Iris bundles up into one overloading wave of uncontrollable energy.

Then without thought, my hands find themselves in two separate positions. My left to the back of the skull and my right on her chin. Iris Castillo's eyes open to stare at me, deep seas of regret and panicked.

"And who's this for?" She chocks out.

I raise my eyebrows at her and sigh deeply. "This is for me." I growl and the next movement is swift, using the strength in my arms which was channelled through my hands, I flawlessly turn her head to the side making sure to angle her chin upwards during the turning. Snapping her neck like a twig. And as I did, a cannon sounded in the eerie arena.

Allowing her limp body to fall backwards into the dirt. I turn without giving any acknowledgement to the body of the fifteen-year-old girl I had just murdered in cold blood. She wasn't a friend, nor an acquaintance. I am not even certain Iris Castillo was human but somewhere in District 2, there is a family that had just lost a member. A sister, daughter, niece or cousin.

She will be missed, just not by me.

Snagging the backpack marked with my district number from the table in the mouth of the Cornucopia, I selfishly decide to take the smaller backpack intended for one of the District 2 tributes, however since there are only one member still living from the District 2 team, I don't see the point in wasting a pack that could be filled with life saving ointments or food. Afterwards, I then attempt to trace down the dropped survival packs and weapons. Feeling I have put myself at risk enough for one day, I simply pocket the loose weapons – including the vest that housed the array of knives Iris had – and carry the survival packs before adventuring out into the wilderness, looking like I have adventured home from a shopping trip, across the field across from the mouth of the Cornucopia opposite to where Garrett informed me he last saw the Career Tributes, but now there is only one left; Cato Ludwig.

Speaking of the devil, when I reach the edge of the field just inside the tree line, I feel an untameable urge to turn back for an instant. Cato has broken free of the trees and finds Iris's body in the grass. He kneels beside Iris, spear in hand, begging her to wake up and stay with him. In a second, he realises it's futile, she cannot be saved. She is dead. Rage washes over me. He sat there, that night, any night we shared, he was spoon feeding me bullshit, and me, a little girl whose never been loved, ate it up like a sucker. Fuck him. Jesus, I am such a fucking moron. Fuck Iris Castillo, fuck Cato Ludwig.

Further into the tree line, I watch through a gap as the hovercraft descends on the arena, alerted to me via a mockingjay melody. The metal claw scoops up Iris's body from the ground before rising her up for the other two tributes to see. Well, one because myself and Cato already are aware of her death, but Garrett isn't. Once the hovercraft disappears into thin air, I am pushing and shoving through the trees being careful not to drop anything. I need to find somewhere to stay, a cave would be safest and that's what I head for, not the one in the rocky terrain before with Cassandra, Waylon and Alden, somewhere more hidden. Plenty of undergrowth.

Knowing Garrett is somewhat nearby gives me a little sense of safety but also worry because now there are three, how long will those, "I'm your little piece of home" excuses keep me alive against him, or has he already decided to cut me down when I least expected.

* * *

**A/N: Ding-Dong, the witch is dead. Is it strange I really enjoyed writing this chapter, I hope you all enjoyed and remember to review and tell me what you think and how (if you believe) it could be improved. If not, review, review and review!**


	38. Chapter 38: Inside The Pack

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

**Inside the Capitol gifts.**

A dark, stingy cave is where I set up camp several hours after the feast is over. The walls are made from jagged rock with slimy moss and dampened cracks due to the sudden change in weather which forces the rain to pour downwards onto the roof of the unpredictable cave, the water slips in dripping from the damaged ceiling onto unsuspecting patches of gravel dirt. I ensure to not place anything important in those patches, not wanting to risk getting anything wet that needs to be dried.

The dropping temperature causes my limbs to lose majority feeling and so, I snuggle into my sleeping back which is specially designed like my jacket to keep my body heat in. I set up my little bedroom to the back of the reasonably large cave, opposite the entrance which I have decorated with rocks and tree branches. Pulling the two small packs onto my lap, I decided to open the one assigned to me first. Whilst rooting through the pack marked for my district; three metal pots stacked one on top of the other was inside the backpack. I open them carefully as I am unaware if the pot contain liquid and if this stuff is going to save my life, I don't want to risk spilling it.

The top pot is actually containing still steaming hot lamb and beef soup which I just want to dunk my face in a gobble up but I contain myself, a spoon is attacked to the underside of the lid thankfully. The middle pot contains a lime green ointment with tiny blue beads mixed in, that I assume is for my still healing cuts which have all gone purple around the edges as they attempt to heal in the brutal environment but with my lack of nutrient and mineral intake my body has been struggling. The third and final pot of the District 4 pack is funny shaped, like a solid figure of eight, I open the lid that is clipped on one side and held in place on the other. On opening the pot, I am completely unaware of what I could possibly need that would be inside this pot. Not food, not water or another form of medicine but goggles, thick plastic with a tight elastic band that secures the lenses to my face. The lenses are dark green and freckled. Night vision goggles. I suppose some use can come of them later when it's dark – so I can what the entrance at night.

Once I have set aside my gifts from the Capitol, I stare at the pack meant for one of the District 2 members but considering there is only one left and seeing no harm in giving myself a little extra help. I pull the pack onto my lap like I had the previous backpack and opened the zip to pull the flap back, inside the pack was, again, three small pots and similar to mine, food has been given but this time it has been filled into both pots. One with rice and peas and the other with a small chunk of bread but the content of the last pot still remained a mystery. And so I twist the lid of the pot off to reveal not food or medicine, but a locket.

Stacking the pots away, food and medicine separate and discarding of the metal pots. I hold the locket in my hand to study it closer. It's beautifully crafted with two wings formed out of silver to act as a protective layer. Pushing the two wings apart they reveal a tiny picture that has faded over years. There is a man whose hands are clenched around a middle aged woman who has her arms draped over two young girls who sit on either side of her.

A family.

I recognise Iris as the youngest female in the photo, her soft features and soft blue dress allow me to average her age to be around nine or ten. The second youngest female in the photo is her elder sister, I know that because I recognise her from the television, in this photo she almost looks beautiful and kind, with a warming smile and nice clothing, she is nothing like the girl I witnessed during the Games. By process of elimination, the woman must be the Castillo children's mother and the man must be their father. I turn the locket over to read the inscription, _for all of time._

One happy family.

Sickness rises in my stomach, this was meant for Iris. The fifteen-year-old girl who I murdered in cold blood in front of her family, in front of the entire nation. The little girl whose pack I had stolen and whose family I have ruined. According to this picture, they don't have any other children. These parent's are now childless thanks to the Games. Unclasping the silver chain, I put the locket around my neck, vowing to return it to Iris parents because I owe her parents this, I don't owe Iris anything, she was just a child despite being ruthless and dangerous, little girl playing along with the Games.

I eat the lamb and beef soup that night whilst dunking chunks of the bread into the broth. It was scrumptious and I go to sleep with a satisfied stomach for the first time in weeks but really how can I be truly fine? There are three of us left. I am the weakest of the trio but with my night vision goggles, kindly given too me by some sort of sponsor or the Gamemakers, I feel safer and now all there too do is hide and wait.

Wait for Garrett and Cato to butcher each other until then, I shall hide. Safe and sound in my cave of crappy wonders.

**xxx**

_Day Fourteen._

The night was peaceful. Not even a rumble erupted from outside the cave. Upon waking, I finished what was left of my bread loaf before heading out, equipped with my new knife vest that also had armour like qualities to it, I go to set up some scares nearby. The rain had continues although the night so the woodland floor is wetter than a swimming pool and so when I return to the cave, my feet are soaked through the leather shoes. Inside the stone cave, I create the base for a fire and spark it to life with several waterproof matches.

Heat, glorious heat erupts from the fire like a life preserver. I remove my leather boots and set them beside the growing fire so they dry out. Using sticks and leftover string, I make a small rack that I can hang my socks over the fire without them catching a blaze. My toes are blue tipped and to help them warm whilst the protective layers dry, I snuggle in my sleeping bag like a cocoon turning into a butterfly. Minus the butterfly part.

Despite Vibia's overuse of gel, my hair as curled at the back and sides. Pushing it away from my eyes I apply ointment to my face and any cuts that are particularly painful. The stab wound on my shoulder that Iris had inflicted on me during the feast is dreadfully painful and I pray the ointment is designed to help with pain and protection against various infection, but really, how can I know. The ointment may actually be poison and I just assumed it was to help me rather than the opposite, but on smelling it, the lemony smell indicates disinfectant.

I apply a far amount to my wounds before checking my socks, as I squeeze the fabric, faint trickles of water splash onto the hot flames making the fire hiss. Curling my toes and re-straightening them inside my sleeping bag, in the hope to get the circulation going again. As I lay back against the awkwardly shaped cave wall, my mind begins to dawdle.

Fourteen days.

Two weeks.

Twenty-one dead.

Could I win? Go home to see my brother? To see Annie and Mags? Leila? A faint spark lights in my chest about seeing my selfish mother but even then I cannot bring myself to actually miss her, to rub my victory in her face as she watches me roll in all the money she wishes she had but her popularity status amongst the people of District 4 would rise anyway if I came home. Two victors, brother and sister, both her own children, not that she did much but still, her own flesh and blood.

Victors. Adored by the Capitol. Hated by every district apart from your own. Some would think it's worth having and I certainly am not saying it's not worth it but having to life and deal with the lives you have taken. I'd rather be dead than to be haunted by their faces; Cassandra, Waylon, Alden and Iris's. Next to the fire, inside a damp cave, I unintentionally fall asleep, vulnerably and helpless inside the Arena but I am exhausted.

**xxx**

Awaking with a jump, I choke and hiss violently as the cave is filled with smoke. The fire must have died whilst I was sleeping causing the cave to fill up as the smoke couldn't escape. My socks are dry so I slip them on before following with my boots making sure the laces are tied as tightly as possible so my feet cannot go anywhere. Quickly rolling my sleeping bag into my survival pack, followed by my water bottle and metal pots of food and ointment I had not eaten or used.

Checking the snares, I had captured nothing but that didn't matter, I had enough food to last me a few days if I ration carefully. The surroundings are already thick with fog and with the day slowly turning into night, I remove the night-vision goggles from my pocket and strap them to my head turning the arena to a shade of green and the trees and shrubs have turned to a black or grey as the goggles adapt to the darkening scenery. Knives at the ready, two held in my right and one of my medium blades drawn, held strong by the handle. Careers hunt at night, Cato no doubt has night-vision goggles still from the Cornucopia, therefore I am as vulnerable as he is right now, only difference is that he doesn't know it.

Prowling through the night-time arena, rustling begins to echo through the trees from around me. Twisting and turning with my night-vision goggles searching for someone, mainly Cato or the thing that was creating the rustles but nothing shows up. The moon shines high in the sky as the night wanders on. I wasn't completely blind but being uncertain of what I am suppose to be looking for makes me an easy target.

Out of sheer panic, I whistle to the mockingjay's begging for them to sing back and tell me everything is going to be okay and they do, the first mockingjay trills the tune back to me, then another. Listening to the sweet melody, my heartbeat softens to a more natural pace. Then, suddenly, a cannon sounds in the silence around making me almost leap from my skin. Then, the mockingjay's voices rise up into a several high-pitched shriek's of alarm.

Not knowing where to go or what to do, I sprint forwards. A figure stops me, hunched over a body. Removing my goggles to get the real picture, a direct line of white light from the moon shines down from the sky to light the situation for the Capitol. The face of the tribute was angled towards me and has been brutally cut from ear to ear, one eye remained open looking at me. A deep sea green eyes. Then I notice a glistening expensive gold chain wrapped around his throat with the pendant escaping the collar of his shirt. A token from his escort.

Garrett Larkin is dead.

My eyes flicker to the creature standing over my deceased district partner – it's not human – with horns growing from just above its temples that curl like a bull off to the side dramatically. The creature stands up straight, it towers well over seven-foot, reattaching my goggles back over my head, I can clearly see in through the gadget that it's body was made from the upper half of a dark furred bull, it's arms are made from large muscle with three-fingered hands, long claws were grown from the ends of the fingers. Trailing down to study the lower half of this bull, the legs are also made from the hind legs of a animal with well manicured hooves instead of feet.

As I'm turning away, the creature turns to face me and I manage to catch a glimpse of the face which the Minotaur has stolen. It's familiar dark hair and green eyes with thin lips and defined eyebrows. It's my sister, Maria.

Her eyes glow lime green in the dark, piercing through the darkness like a knife would butter and as Maria snarls, her teeth aren't normal, like regular people but carved into triangles and covered in black slim that leaks from her mouth. Then I am stumbling blind through the thick undergrowth with no thought other than to save myself.

* * *

**A/N: What do you think of the mutations? Freaky, right. Two left to play and what are the jobs of mutts? To draw tributes together. Please review and express your thoughts!**


	39. Chapter 39: Capitol Mutations

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

**Capitol Mutations.**

Mutation, of course. I have read the myths and legends on Minotaur's. Part man, part bull. In Greek Mythology, they dwell at the center of the Labyrinths, which was an elaborate maze-like construction designed by the architect Daedalus and his son Icarus, on the command of King Minos of Crete. The Minotaur was eventually killed by the Athenian hero Theseus. Unlike the creatures I have read about, these mutts are real and trying to kill me. Strikes of hot pain radiate through my body starting from my back as the mutt uses it's talons to slash at my limbs.

For some miracle unknown, I manage to outrun the creature only to allow myself to rest for a couple of seconds and at the expense of loosing my night-vision goggles as they are plucked from my face by a tree branch. Running was never my strong point but its life or death and knowing I have gotten this far, I would rather not be ripped to pieces by a mutt that looks like my only sister.

Catching my breath allows me to think clearer, that's when I see it perfectly through the thick trees of various types. The blessed Cornucopia, the beautiful golden horn-shaped cone with a curved tail. The highest point of the arena where the mutts cannot get me. Unless these creatures can climb but thinking positively drags me into believing they cannot.

As dart from out from against the tree to sprint towards the Cornucopia but not before turning back to look out for the creature, which is when a sharp pain shocks it's way through my shoulder, upon looking down I see the dark image of three metal claws poking through the front of my left shoulder. As I scream, the mutt grunts with pleasure before twisting its body round as it throws its arm to the side flinging me through the trees, their branches snag and rip at my skin and clothing but the momentum from the mutts throw stops when I collide with the hard ground of the starting field.

Groaning, I gather myself up as quick as possible because the bull mutation is staring at me with hungry eyes as it slowly edges its ways towards me through the thick trees. It's eyes burn through the darkness and I waste no time attempting to save myself, I select a throwing knife at random and throw it, the blade plummets into the breasts chest. It laughs, literally, a guff chuckle exits the beasts mouth as it plucks the blade from its bare chest before walking towards me.

"What the fu – " I mumble but before I have finished my curse, the beast is sprinting towards me. Adrenaline leaks through every pour mixed with reeking sweat but I am thankful for the overload of adrenaline because it numbs the pain and strengthens my pain threshold but sadly it doesn't sharpen my visual image, the edges are blurred and the darkness of the night makes it difficult but it wasn't mandatory that my vision was crisp, I was running towards the largest object in the field.

My hands have just landed on the metal at the pointed tail of the Cornucopia when I glance back to pinpoint the Capitol creations whereabouts and it's closing in quick, eyes glowing and razor-sharp teeth bared. I start to climb, scaling the Cornucopia on my hands and feet. The pure gold surface has been designed to resemble the woven horn that we filled at harvest, so there are little ridges and seams to get a decent hold on. But after a day of rain, the metal is slippery.

On the top, a body is laid on its side at the very top of the born, six meters above the ground, gasping to catch their breath as they gag over the edge. Cato. Now it's my chance to finish him off, I mean it'll be quick but as I select a knife from Iris's vest, he looks up at me, crystal clear blue eyes. As I step onto the semi-flat top of the Cornucopia, I look down at the mutation, shocked to see several more have joined it. Remembering that deadly Career, Cato Ludwig was waiting at the top, I whip round but he has doubled over with cramps and apparently more preoccupied with the beasts than me, then he coughs out something unintelligible. The snuffling and growling sound coming from the mutts isn't helping.

"What?" I shout at him.

"I said, 'Can they climb up?'" answers Cato, drawing my focus back to the base of the horn.

The beast are beginning to assemble at the base of the Cornucopia. All on their legs standing high and mighty, giving them all eerily human quality, each has a thick coat, some with fur that is straight and sleek, others curly and their colours vary from jet black to blonde, each with a different pair of glowing eyes like headlights. They scratch and snarl but occasionally they release high-pitched yippying sounds, this must be how they communicate but as they continuously attempt to leap and reach us, I focus on one mutt in particular, I cannot help but feel as if I know it – light brown hair with strange feather-like fur when I notice a metal collar with the number _10 _inlaid with white feathers – it's Cassandra.

There all here. Alden, Waylon, Iris. All created into a more realistic peice of President Snow's games, the one thing we should never have been.

* * *

**A/N: Apologise for the shortness of this chapter, but thought filler was needed. Thank you for all your brilliant and confident raising comments, I really love them and appreciate them, thank you. Review on this chapter for me :) **


	40. Chapter 40: The Cornucopia

Chapter Forty.

**The Cornicopia.**

A shriek escapes my lips and I'm having trouble now throwing blades into the crowd of Capitol creatures which surrounds the Cornucopia, keeping the only two tributes left in this years games together without any way to escape from each other. If the Gamemakers have it their way, the Games will end tonight with one of us dead. I keep my blades in my holders as I wait to see if these creatures can, in fact, climb. One jumps and slips backwards unable to find a hook in the horn to climb but as it slips back to ground level, it drags it's razor-sharp talons along the side of the Cornucopia making an awful noise like nails on a blackboard. I fire at it's throat, watching the body twitch and flop back to the ground with a satisfying thud.

Suddenly, the twenty-two mutts have efficiently split themselves into two groups to cover both sides of the Cornucopia and from each side now attempted to climb with Cato not regained to his feet quite yet, I am alone defending myself from the mutations. Cato's breathing has slowed and I know soon he'll be recovered enough to come for me, to hurl me over the side to my death. I feel a moment of relief as I take out an enormous mutt whose clawed hands scratched the top surface of the Cornucopia a mini of a meter from my feet but they continue to jump as if they never get tired with endless snarls and groans.

"There not going to stop, Anastasia." a sudden gentle voice says through the animal noises.

I turn sharply to see Cato standing before me from the skin before his right ear to the inner section of his right cheek, three deep claw cuts ooze blood and on the forehead space from the inner rim of his left eyebrow to the bottom of his temple on the same side is another gruesome cut that leaks blood into his left eye making him twitch. His straight collection of adult teeth are strained red with his blood that tricked from his mouth. He isn't in the best of shape which makes him wonder where he was when the mutts attacked. Did he hear Garrett's cannon and panicked or did the mutts find him before the death of the third tribute. Angered by his presence, I feel the night flash before my eyes when he suggested Jacqueline kill Alden. The hatred rise in my chest and portray in my face as it stiffens.

"Garrett's dead?" Cato questions ignoring my annoyed expression, I nod. Cato sighs before spitting a mixture of blood and saliva onto the mutts below us who hiss. I stare at him, my head pounding like an uncontrollable drum as my pulse echoes in my ears and palpitates against the collar of my shirt.

As I stare at this killer, the bad memories begin to balance the good, staring at Cato made me feel ill in a twisted way as he stares at me. Knowing we are both thinking exactly the same thing as the nation watch us. We are the last two tributes of this years Hunger Games and only one of us can leave here alive.

* * *

**A/N: There it is, Part II: The Games is completed with but now it's all about the two tributes left, contained inside Part III: The Victor. Cato or Anastasia. Who do you wish to win? Do you think they will battle it out or will the pair allow their feelings to stand between the rules of the games; Fight or Die? **

**I really hope you all have enjoyed these chapters during the game, the lose of characters and the secrets revealed and I pray you all will continue in reading – please make sure you follow and favourite, but also make sure you review!**

**Like before, I won't be uploading the third part of Anastasia's story until I have finished writing half of the chapters planned after this. Please keep in-tuned for updated chapter. See you all in a few weeks!**

**Valerie Argent.16.**


	41. Chapter 41: The Refusal

Chapter Forty-One.

**PART III: THE VICTOR.**

**Refusal.**

Cato is armed, a medium sized sword with a sturdy handle. He raises it from his belt – and before I am even aware of my actions, a knife is removed from my leg holster and thrown at him, striking his chest. A clinking sound echoes as metal hits metal. He is wearing some sort of armour, thank God. Cato raises an eyebrow at me, a sign of surprise but also impressed and then I see the sword has already left his hand, dropped over the side of the Cornucopia where it hits the grassy floor below. I stand there, shocked and ashamed as my face burns with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry... I thought..." I stumble.

A noise is released from Cato's lips, not a chuckle or a guff, something smooth but firm. "I know," he says before limping towards to me, stopping a meter or so in front of me, raising his hands to the side to show he is now unarmed, "Do it." he orders grimly.

Tossing my head from side-to-side, I non-verbally refuse before ripping my leg holster from my body before throwing it into the beasts below. "No, I can't and I won't." I hiss at Cato

"Do it!" he suddenly snaps angrily. "Before they send mutations that can jump higher than these. Or worse, ones that can fly." he growls stepping forward making me shuffle backwards, no in fear but cowardly.

"Then you stab me," I say furiously, shoving a flip-away blade into his hands, "You kill me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be easier for the both of us because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena, reliving the deaths and depression. Spending the days trying to think of my way out.

Cato stares down at the blade which lays flat out on the palm of his right hand. His gave is wondering and confused, almost like this Career Tribute doesn't know what to with such a short bladed weapon, like the weapon is puny and beneath him. Cato then looks up at me, his blue eyes decorated with dark circles due to lack of sleep and his face like a colour-by-number with odd colours that shouldn't be there. "You know I can't." Cato says, discarding the weapon to the ground.

"Why?!" I bellow at him, my voice strains with sadness, stress and anger. "You can make a sister kill her brother but killing me is too difficult!?" I scream.

His body jerks forwards, colliding into mine and then I am certain this is the end, that my previous comment had pushed him over the edge and I squeeze my eyes closed waiting for the pain. The pain that never comes and instead, a heated and rough pressure was applied to my lips. We are kissing, the gaps and confusion in the Capitol and the districts are loud enough to be heard from here, at the bottom of the arena as they witness two tributes, two secret lovers, share one last kiss before one of us dies. We are captured in each others arms like children who have missed their parents. Fighting him is futile and not what I want. If it wasn't for the knowing gawking eyes of the Capitol, my brother, mentor, home district and his along with every other human watching, I could kiss him for hours, every kiss as drugging as the previous. Our kisses are enjoyable but with the potent taste of blood mixed with sweat to create a strange taste that is rather pleasant, I cannot help but feel thankful when eventually, we do stop to stare at each other.

"Listen," he whispers to me, gliding the bridges of our noses together gently, "We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of use and I love you too much to kill you and live with it. So please, do it, for me."

Anger flushes through me, hot, red boiling over the lid rage and my body fits as I snap away from Cato, he braces himself, like I had before, to accept a stab deep enough to kill him. Preparing himself for the pain to follow but by the horror glistening look in his eye, Cato doesn't expect me to strip off the vest beneath my jacket. Clinking like wind chimes, I hold the vest up high enough to capture the simple-minds of the Capitol folk.

"Fuck this!" I bellow whilst throwing the vest into the pack of snarling beasts that rip it up into shreds, "Weapon-less, come on Crane! Send something else your twisted foul, blood-lusted mind dreamt up!" I challenge, stupidly.

"Anastasia!" Cato hisses.

Snapping round to look at him, "What? Who are they going to take this out on?" I question him sternly, "Me? You? Any other parent or child in the nation?! They already have, or are going too continue to." answering my own question allows me to feel the true heat from President Snows hate for me but I continue on without realising I am digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. "I'm not going to kill you, so either kill me and get it over with, or –" turning to the sky, "– think of something creative!" I scream, directing the abuse at the Gamemakers.

Then, suddenly as dawn begins to breath over the horizon. A loud crack echoes through the silent arena, shuddering with fear, I leap over to Cato who offers me a protective arm as I help keep him standing. The familiar rushing of waves alarms me and we turn to the stone dam. Our heads turn so our eyes can meet for a second, now wishing I had kept my gob closed, we turn back the dam, just in time to see the stonework crumble and the water be released into the arena.

* * *

**A/N: Did you miss me? Well, here it is, the last part to Anastasia's story. Do you think she acted stupidly to being the one of the two tributes still alive and challenging the Gamemakers or do you think she acted reasonably? Review! I've missed you.**


	42. Chapter 42: The Counter-Move

Chapter Forty-Two.

**The Counter-Move.**

Seneca Crane had accepted my challenge, and I wasn't disappointed. A flash floor, without thought I had wrapped myself up in Cato's arms who held me with passion. The water washed over the trees, knocking them flat without effort, splashing up the sides of the rock face crumpling loose pieces of dirt. The broken rock pieces which formed the dam drifted with the quickly moving current of the moving water, the same large wave that was heading straight for the Cornucopia. Above the thrashing waves, I realise their isn't any growling or grunting from the beasts below, breaking away from the comfort of Cato's arms to search below the Cornucopia, I learn I was right in assuming the beasts are gone and all that remain on the grassy field where mine and Cato's abandoned weapons.

Now it was nothing but the waves, so-many tonnes of water thrashing towards us with nothing to stop it. The water nears heading straight for myself and Cato, the only last surviving children in these games but I cannot help but wonder if the Gamemakers had really thought this idea though, or was Seneca Crane just looking for a way to add to his popularity status, suck up to President Snow more than he already has over the years. But really have they wondered about what happens if we both die? How would this effect the Games reputation if both tributes of this years Games drown in the water, a scenario created by the Gamemakers. They will not have a victor to crown, no one's privacy to invade or riches to lavish upon. They don't deserve a victor, every single child who stood in the crowd at their annual reaping three weeks ago deserves to live their life without fear or wondering how to say the perfect goodbye before watching their friends or family be butchered on TV for the nation to see. Every single child deserves to grown, decide what they wish to be and develop into adulthood without that nagging unknowing whether they will in fact reach it until then, or will they be selected. Children should be able to fall in love, get married and have children without being petrified of having to say goodbye and wait for them to be horrendously murdered by another.

And as my stomach stirs with an unusual feeling, I separate from Cato, our fingers lace around each others and hold on tightly as we watch the nearing wave, he tells me that he loves me and how despite our gloomy end, he is so glad he met me here because if he hadn't, he doubts he never would have fallen in love, but I know that isn't true, if the Games never existed, I would have had to compete against millions of teenage girls who wanted a nice, handsome and strong man to love them and he would have had pick of the litter, but I'm just thankful I got there first before this.

I turn to him, once last time, with tears lining my eyes. I give him a reassuring squeeze, which he returns in good grace, "I love you." the words leave my lips before I can stop them, the growling and angry barks from President Snow can be hear from the arena, but now I don't care, he cannot hurt anyone I love because he doesn't know them and Michael being a victor, his life to the Capitol is far to known to take him out. He is safe.

"And I you." Cato mumbles back but I hardly heard, the waves are close smashing through the tree line and as our lips touch for the last time, a strong force strikes our bodies whipping us from the top of the Cornucopia like we are nothing but specks of dirt and we are lost into the watery rage of President Snow and Seneca Crance.

**xxx**

_*Cato's POV*_

I drowned once. I've never felt so helpless.

I was young, at that strange mid-pubescent phase where the girls get taller and the boys look increasingly more awkward. Back then I was chubby, with a mope of blonde hair and a nice set of buck teeth to complement my overbite that was yet to be fixed by the modern marvels of orthodontics. At the time, I wore these baggy shirts with matching cargo pants with the extra large velcro pockets.

Thanks to the Academy, I was enrolled in a training schedule. Athletics, hand-to-hand combat followed by the use of weapons, theory and swimming. During our swimming class we sometimes did what we called "under-waters". You must swim as far as you could without coming up for air and the end would be made by the end of the twenty-five meter indoor pool. I had done it countless times before and I knew how it felt for me. By the three-quarter mark, you start struggling. At that point, my chest would start to pump up and down desperately looking for air but I'd just concentrate, stare forward at that marble plus sigh at the end of the pool and push straight to it.

You hit the end and explode out of the water gasping for air.

One day after practice, this kid named Otto dared me to swim a full length of the pool, plus a quarter of the way back without breathing. At this point, I was not much younger than I was now, sixteen and I felt like I had something to prove, changing from a chubby twelve-year-old to a strong, athletic bodied sixteen-year-old with neat teeth and quickly agreed without a second thought.

I stretched out at one end of the pool and started with a series of deep breaths. I'd basically hyperventilated, taking a big gulp of air to fill up my lungs, dropping quickly into the water and pushed off the back wall as hard as I could. Stroke after stroke, I remember reaching that three-quarter point. It hurt and I even took in a tiny bit of water but I was determined. My moves quickened until I slapped the cold cement of the back wall, flipped my body and launched right back in the opposite direction.

The water was especially murky that day, I can recall turning my head around to try and spot the flags that marked my quarter finish line but couldn't see a thing. There was no way I was going to come up for air a couple feet short of the goal. So, I clench my teeth, pump my legs and pull with my arms, but then... it all stopped. Everything was purple and I was jerking my body grabbing it for air. My stomach jolted left and right, disorienting me. I wanted to scream but nothing would come out.

Eventually, Otto dived in to pull me up but wasn't strong enough to lift me out of the water. The swim coach fished me out before giving Otto a good clip around the ear for being unable to herd me out of the water but non the less, I was removed from the water and placed onto the cold concrete poolside. My mouth was still clenched tightly shut as if I was gritting my teeth mid-swim but of course, my coach, a registered doctor managed to pry my jaw open and provide me with two deep breaths of life.

I started coughing up the chlorine water as I began to wake. Casually slipping back and forth between the cold cement poolside and the purple hell hole. I woke up screaming and thrashing with a giant burst of adrenaline trying to escape. An ambulance takes me to the District 2 hospital where I spent the night being poked and prodded as they drew blood each hour to check my oxygen count. But don't worry about me, I still wear the colour purple and up until now, I wasn't afraid of water however as I am thrashed around in a whirl pool, my fear has been unbuckled, a familiar panic sets in.

**xxx**

I struggled to stay afloat, kicking and flapping my arms and legs to find the surface of the water but it seems to run away when I feel near. I couldn't breathe, my stomach rocked up and down, twisting and turning like I was strapped into a roller-coaster as the wave continued to wash over the section of the arena behind us, sloshing myself and Cato with it. Separating us, all I wanted to do was scream out for him, I kept stretching my mouth wide open over and over again but I couldn't make a noise and water flooded in leaking into my lungs.

Everything was silent and suddenly, it didn't seem worth it to fight any longer but as a familiar stir circulated in my stomach, my body rocketed with unbelievable adrenaline, filling my limbs with energy and as the water began to settle in an even line across the arena. I found the surface, piercing through it like a needle through skin, gasping and begging for air. Allowing for the nation to see I am still alive, my chest felt heavy with the water I had consumed by accidental breathing whilst submerged. I float like a bag of air, willing my arms to tread water to keep my head above the surface.

_Keep alive, _my brothers voice whispers inside my head, then I remember the flowers, a vision of them set neatly around a tombstone signed with my name in fancy letters, people crowded around wearing their finest black outfits, my brother keeping towards the back whilst Annie remains hooked in Finnick's arms, stopping her from making a scene. Mags crying silently. Leila stood at the front, a proud friend until the end. My funeral would be lonely, consisting of only them because my mother and her new family would not be welcome, Michael knows that.

I cough, straining my chest and wetting my chin with warm water and spit. My arms begin to weaken and my legs have stopped all together. My heart fell to low and shallow beats, and suddenly, my eyelids became heavy despite my brothers callings echoing and the others shakes, I cannot keep my eyelids open for any longer and when they shut it's peaceful.

Until there is a shift in the water, has the hovercraft come to collect my body? Or is that Cato ready to end my life for good? However when opening my eyes which need to adjust to the new morning sunlight, I watch a glimpse of the tail of the Cornucopia, the more I watched the monument the more it was newly revealed, the water was draining from the arena. No cannon had sounded, or at least I hadn't heard it.

Trying to wrap my head around why Seneca Crane hadn't allowed me to drown in their flash flood allowed the time to pass quicker and soon I was laid in the mud of the field where I and twenty-three others stood ready to face death fifteen days ago. Scanning the field, I am desperate to find Cato's body. And as I stumble to my feet, wobbling like a toddler, I find him in the mouth of the Cornucopia. Soaking wet and still but as I near him. My heart picks up pace as I attempt to speed up but my limbs have turned to liquid, my shoulder burns and everything else stings. I prepare myself for the sound of a cannon but it doesn't come and despite the minutes of stillness he has managed to keep, he moves, his fingers first gently curling but soon the gesture goes limp against the ground and I panic. "Cato!" I scream gripping his shoulders and shaking violently, unsure of what really to do but soon my shaking turns to pleading and my shouts turn to tears.

* * *

**A/N: Yo-yo-yiggity-yo. What did you guys think of my counter move made by Seneca Crane, isn't that man a ass? I wonder how Anastasia will react if she ever sees him again - hmm. Anyway, make sure you all review about the situation brewing inside the arena. Cato seems a gonner but does the killer Career have one last trick up his sleeve? Review and tell me what you think and if you're enjoying Part III so far :)**


	43. Chapter 43: Last Breath

Chapter Forty-Three.

_*Cato's POV*_

**My Last Breaths.**

_Hold on to me love, _

_You know I can't stay long._

As I drifted, I dreamed.

Where I floated, under the dark water, I heard the happiest sound my mind could conjure up – as beautiful and uplifting as it was ghastly. It was another scream; a deeper and wilder roar of fury. I was brought back, almost to the surface by a sharp pain slashing my chest but I couldn't find my way back enough to open my eyes. And then I knew, I was dead because though the heavy water, I heard the sound of an angel calling my name, calling me to the safety of heavens gates.

"No, Cato, no!" the angel's voice cried in horror.

Behind that longed-for sound was another distant noise – an awful memory which my mind shied away from. A vicious bass of growling and shocking snapping sounds which suddenly broke off into silence. Therefore I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead of the sloshing of water and wallowing noises from my memory.

"Please, Cato, listen to me, I need you. Please, please, Cato, stay with me." she begged, and the angel was sobbing, tearful, broken sobs. I wanted to say something, anything but I couldn't find my lips. An angel shouldn't weep, it's wrong. I tried to find her, to tell her everything was fine but the water was too deep, it was pressing on me and I couldn't breathe.

_All I wanted to say was, "I love you and I'm not afraid",_

_Can you hear me?_

There was a point of pressure against my skull. It was painful. Then, as the pain broke through the darkness to me, other pains come, stronger more excruciating pains in my chest and abdomen. I cried out, gasping, spluttering, breaking through the dark pool. This couldn't be heaven, far too much pain.

"Anastasia!" I suddenly screech like a small child, finally breaking through the last of the darkness, my eyes fluttered open but I couldn't see her face, something dark purple and fuzzy was covering my eyes. I blink rapidly and repeatedly over and over again trying to remove the purple block from my eyes.

"Oh, thank God." she squeaks, a gentle warmth appears in large patches on my face, "Cato?" she asks. My eyes finally adjust to the normality of the new sunlight and Anastasia's face became clear to me. Her large sea green eyes are deeply set in her new hollow face which was covered in variously sized and depth cuts and coloured bruises that where in there cycle of healing making her face look like a three-year-olds painting. The small teenager shifts her body to the side of my head where she removes my upper half from the marshy ground to cradle me like a small child, her actions are low and my the decrease of use in her left arm, she has been injured recently – possibly by those Capitol creations.

"Hey Princess." I manage to croak. Anastasia manages to chuckle, it's light and not exactly filled with humour but I can tell it's for my own benefit. Her beautiful eyes are rimmed with tears as she looks down upon me knowing the outcome to follow in several minutes, I was dying. I could feel it in my chest, that strain you experience after doing too much exercise or when you're nervous. My heart palpitates but in slow and shallow beats as it prepares to stop. Breathing through my nose hits the water trapped at the back of my throat and breathing through my mouth causes me to choke, staining my chest more upsetting the trapped dam water and blood.

She pats my face, stoking the small fragments of hair that have fallen onto my face from view, making sure she avoids the talon injuries. "You're going to be okay." Anastasia whispers, I recognise that tone of her voice, gentle and innocent, something I believe she is too be, but I witnessed her kill Iris, the power and skill behind her blows, I cannot help but feel used by not knowing of her skills in combat, her abilities to kill.

"Don't lie." I splutter, gripping lightly onto the hand that rested on the section of my chest above my heart. Our fingers lace together like a perfect match. It's then as her pulse radiates against my wrist, I always thought my life belonged to the games, little did I realise until now, that it belongs to her. It always will.

_Can you feel me in your arms?_

_Holding my last breath._

I squeeze her hand, unintentionally making the joints in her fingers crack but I manage to grab her attention and as I stare up at her and she glances down at me. I cannot believe how luck I have been to love her, even for the short time we had.

"Promise... me..." I stumble, hitching up several spoonfuls of watery blood to decorate my face more with, "That... you'll remember me... no matter, what..." I manage to choke out before erupting into a fit of coughs, Anastasia lifts up my upper body to sit me up, with her arm hooked under my ribcage, she allows my body to flop forwards for several minutes, supported by her arms to keep my from smashing into the muddy ground.

Once the fit was finished with, she returned me back to my previous position, laid in her lap with her skinny fingers lacing through my hair. "I promise." she says, no more whispering because there is no one else about to hear and if the Capitol was desecrate enough, they could use their advanced technology to figure out what she or I was whispering.

_Save inside myself and all my thoughts of you,_

_Sweet raptured light, it ends here tonight._

"I love you." I tell her.

Anastasia shakes her head, firmly. "Don't say that. You can't leave me here." she begs lowering her head to kiss me, her face is sideways making it uncomfortable as her nose jabs into the side of my face but she doesn't seem to care about mine so I don't mind about hers. The kiss is gentle like she is scared of hurting me, ironic considering the last time we were this close back in the Capitol, I was the one afraid of hurting her. But she's stronger than she looks, I've learnt that now.

"Here." I mumble, fumbling for the collar of my shirt. Shaking fingers I retract a necklace from around my throat. I remember the feel of it beneath my fingertips, flat silver plated with a spearhead carved in patterns attached to a chain. Unclasping the clip and transfer it into her hand. "Keep this?" I ask her. Anastasia nods with tears, agreeing to keep it, she doesn't have to wear it, I don't expect her too, Anastasia's fingers clamp around the trinket, I turn my hands back to holding her hand.

I squeeze her hand, trying to comfort her but end up clamping down forcefully on her fragile hands as an intense pain bloomed at the top of my chest, spreading downwards and inwards. Coughing up liquidized substances brings up the taste of metallic blood and sweet water. My muscles tighten as they spasm shifting my body into a strange fit. _That's my lungs giving out, _I thought. Soon it'll be my heart, back on the surface I tried to wave it all away but I couldn't lift my arms and the pain become intolerable.

_I'll miss the winter, a world of fragile fears._

_Look for me in a white forest, hiding in a hollow tree._

I finally found myself able to breathe, but it only made the pain worsen. Clamping onto Anastasia's head, wrapping my right hand around the back of her skull gripping the flesh with my nails. I don't mean to harm her, as my body fits with violent coughs, blood, spit, water. Anastasia cries out with pain as my fingernails break the surface of her skin in the area's I have gripped unintentionally.

There wasn't a bright white light, not yet. Instead the edges of my vision blackened with a glazed over purple, the shades where varied with light and dark patches, almost as if I was swimming in a sea of blackcurrant squash. My chest tightened before expanding quickly, too quickly for my body to feel comfortable, almost as if my chest was about to explode. I wanted to yell, scream, hiss, create any noise to inform Anastasia that I wasn't just randomly ripping at her flesh but I couldn't make a noise. Stretching my mouth wide open over and over again to retrieve some oxygen. More pain exits me, but can still hear Anastasia's voice, high-pitched and shaking with fear as she returns my strong grips on my wrist clamped around her neck and the wrist attached to her jacket zip.

_I know you can hear me, I can taste it in your tears._

_Closing your eyes to disappear, you pray your dreams will leave you here._

As I started up at the sky passed Anastasia's head, I started seeing black a little bit then increasing more. Looking up at Anastasia, I studied her for one last time, savouring each and every minuscule detail of her. She is beautiful with shining eyes that glisten no matter what the light, her short hair was boyish but suited her as it curls in strange ringlets framing her oval face. Through her partnered lips, I studied her teeth, straightened with small indentations on the ridges, skin piercing weapons that are easily concealed. We never got our happy ending.

With my last percent of energy left, I released the collar of her jacket to press my dampened hand against her cheek, hot tears tricky into the lines on my fingers and palm. Anastasia's hot lips press onto my cold flesh. "I love you." she mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear her but blood rushes in my ears making even the loudest of noises difficult. The black overtook and the image disappeared, shortly following her last words of compassion, I reply. The small yet powerful words, _I love you more, _thenlike the gentle leaves in the mist of autumn, my eyelids flutter to a close so I could embrace the darkness, knowing that was the last time I was ever going to lay eyes on Anastasia Hollern, I savoured her image.

_But still you wake and know the truth,_

_No one's there... Say goodnight, don't be afraid._

"No!" her screams echo, but through the darkness, I am not dead yet. The stiffness in my muscles retracts leaving me to fall limp into Anastasia's waiting arms which are already wrapped around me like a vice. I have no doubt she will attempt to save me, try restarting my heart or remove the water but soon after several minutes of attempts, she will realise it's futile and I cannot be saved.

In the moment when I fear I cannot be surprised anymore, God proves me wrong and a light pierces through the darkness. A bright, white light. This light sparks out to create a sky and the world that forms around me is horridly familiar – the starting field. The atmosphere was silent and the trees full and grown, the ground wasn't muddy or marshy but instead blossoming with flowers. Across the field I watch people laughing and squealing in joy and happiness, something I hadn't heard for a long time. Happiness. Scanning the surroundings allows me to see the other tributes, all twenty-two of them, plus me now. I notice the little one, from District 12, dancing with another small dark skinned girl. I recognise others such as Garrett who speaks to a young woman with fiery red-hair and a sleek face like a fox.

Non of them are injured. All healthy and youthful. Glancing down at myself, I wear a white high-collared shirt with short sleeves which is in no way ruined with blood or a cut in the binding. My hands, knuckles and arms have all been healed from their cuts, saved from infection. The throbbing in my face and head has stopped and upon touching the skin I feel no talon marks, no warm blood and my breathing was steady and even. I am all new.

_Calling me, calling me as you fade to black._

A touch tingles on my shoulder making me turn sharply to see a beautiful young woman. Her hair is dark and cropped short pinned away from her gentle tanned face, the cupids bow of her upper lip is arched and neatly defined along with high eyebrows and green eyes to match her appearance. The flickering images of this young woman and Anastasia merge into one as they house strikingly familiar features.

"Maria." I say, the word drops from my mouth quickly before I can stop it.

The young woman nods but she doesn't smile at me, I suspect she has been watching from here, wherever here is. A pain-filled sob echoes through the happiness, breaking the laughter. I turn back to see all the others staring at me, there faces hollow and emotionless. Suddenly they began whispering as the cries continue, getting louder and more agonising as the seconds flicker by.

Maria moves aside to reveal the Cornucopia, as she turns, the entire image behind her turns back to Hunger Games standards, marshy and wet. Two people remain huddled, one in the arms of another, as the young girl wails to the body clutched in her arms, by the short hair and tiny structure, I realise it's Anastasia. My eyes flicker to Maria who seems upset and distressed by the image of her sister and my body, but when she turns to me, I feel more awkward and wonder why she is showing me this.

"Where am I?" I ask, feeling rather stupid.

Maria turns back to her crying younger sister, the one girl I am certain she truly loved as I know Anastasia loved her. The small girl Maria sacrificed herself to save from these traitorous games. "You're in the void, the place between life and death," the woman explained. "Back there is death –" Maria gestured to the others who have silenced themselves, "– and over there, is life." she points to Anastasia. I raise an eyebrow, is she giving me the option? Life or death. I can't go back that would mean having to try kill one another, if the Capitol hasn't gotten too bored with us already. "You need to say goodbye to her." Maria informs me, stepping forward so she is level.

Turning sharply, I expect to feel pain or hear bone creak or crack but nothing emits from my body, no unhealthy sounds. "I've already said goodbye to her." I reply firmly, knowing I really hadn't, saying "I love you" is not goodbye. The corners of her mouth turn upwards, her smile differs to Anastasia in a way that Maria doesn't show her teeth when she grins, they remain hidden beneath the line of flesh that form her lips. Anastasia cannot help but reveal her straightened teeth.

Maria turns to stand side on to me, her body is inches away from my arm. The gentle breathes released from her nostrils tingle on the surface of my fabric shirt. "But now you can say goodbye without worry of being interrupted or you dying on her." she says with a hint of humour.

Licking the inner rim of my lower lips, I don't understand why I am hesitating. "Can she hear me?" I ask.

The young woman shakes her head regretfully, "No but it can make you feel better. Anastasia loves you, she knows that you love her but it helps to shake loose any regrets you may have before you come with us." she tells me before gently nudging me forwards towards the ghostly pair of bodies in front of the mouth of the Gamemakers Cornucopia.

And with deep breaths and steady strides, I make my way towards Anastasia and, well, me.

_Say goodnight, holding my last breath._

It's a strange sensation watching the girl you love cradle your dead body in her arms like she is the one who is dying and I am the life line. Kneeling the other side of my corpse, I keep my eyes on Anastasia as she cries gruffly into the crook of my neck. I can almost feel the wetness of her tears in the crook of my throat, making twitches of nerves wipe the space where I feel the wetness but of course there is nothing there to clean away.

"I know you can't hear me, but I'm going to tell you this anyway," I say, almost waiting for a reply from her but Anastasia continues to sob which makes my eyes rim with a thin layer of tears, "I wasn't suppose to love you, I was never suppose to care about you, Anastasia you where suppose to be a target and nothing more. I was never suppose to think and wonder how our life together could have been, I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself." I pause as freckles of loose tears escape me. "I fell in love with you." I admit to her but it falls on deaf ears however I continue because venting helps and there is so much I wish I could of said that I didn' t because I was afraid she wouldn't say them back to me.

"When I first laid eyes on you, I was nothing but an angel but looking at you now, all I see is an angel stripped of her wings. I loose count how many times I panicked when a cannon sounded only to wait for hours, waiting for the anthem to see if one of them belonged to you." pause. "The only thing that could mask my happiness you weren't dead was Iris rage for the opposite reason." I cannot help but chuckle because Anastasia really showed Iris who was misguided. Snapping her neck was almost as entertaining to watch as her receiving her kisses.

I reach out to touch Anastasia but my hand passes through her like a knife through fog, "I'll be waiting for you Princess, because truly, I don't want anyone else." I whisper before glancing back at Maria who watched me like a hawk, she bit her lip and gave me a simple nod. That was enough but why do I feel I am cutting this short. I love her, she means everything to me, the Games where my life until I met her, she replaced everything I ever thought matter with a real reason to live, not for the fame and glory but for her love.

_Don't be afraid, I'm safe inside myself._

"Anastasia, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You will be on my mind from now on until we meet again, no even death can separate us. You deserve to live, to wear the crown and be loved because I just cannot picture a world without you." I whisper wiping away the tears which now dampened my cheeks. Leaning forward avoiding looking at my own dead body, I plant the lightest kiss on her forehead, knowing she cannot feel it or has any recollection of the things I have said doesn't matter to me because I know I have said them.

Gathering myself to my feet is a daunting process but I manage without Maria's help, not that she offered it. The stifled sobs of my love begin to fade as I become level with Maria who begins to walk away in silence. Before me stands the lost tributes from the games years before. Many I did not recognise but others I certainly did, Cherish, Victor, Garrett, Cassandra and the sour-face of Alden. They wander into the tree lining without a word said, Maria is second the last following them and she turns back to look at me who turns to look across the playing field, Anastasia is still sat in the mouth of the Cornucopia cradling me.

"Goodbye, Anastasia." I say to myself before turning back to Maria who smiles sadly before turning for the tree line and walking through without a care in the world. Trusting her instincts, I follow into the bright light that temporally blinds me but it's a good pain as I am plucked from this hateful earth and whisked away to a safer place where I will wait for her until Anastasia's time comes. I hope she will have a long life ahead of her but I pray these games haven't fucked up her head too badly she doesn't cope.

_Calling me, calling me, are all my thoughts of you?_

Can I be forgiven for all I have done here? The killing and the tormenting.

I want to be.

I can.

I believe it.

_Sweet raptured life, it ends here tonight._

* * *

**A/N: I actually hated writing this chapter. I'm sorry, really sorry. There is no longer two tributes in the Games, now there is one. The victor. How did you guys feel about having it as Cato's point-of-view for his last moments? Now everyone can realise how he felt about Anastasia, and that she wasn't just a fling but now she has to face the crowds of the Capitol alone and how will she cope? Review!**

**(Song; My Last Breath by Evanescence)**


	44. Chapter 44: Tribute Becomes A Victor

Chapter Forty-Four.

**When A Tribute Becomes A Victor.**

I'm not sure how long I've been sat here, but it certainly wasn't an entire day which is why I am so confused when the Gamemakers feel it necessary to turn down the lights from day to night before plastering the sky with stars. Just like the ones Cato and I watched on the Training Centre roof back in the Capitol. Maybe this was deliberate to create one special night to mask the horror of the moments soon to come. Cato was still breathing, but only just, he's been unconscious for several minutes but his pulse echoes lightly beneath the sensitive skin of my fingertips. I can almost seen the Gamemaker in-charge of the cannons, tapping his foot watching the screen which is lit up with Cato's vital information, his injuries and heartbeat count.

Then, in one swift motion, the life is plucked from him. Cato's chest falls flat and his gentle grip falls completely limp; the cannon sounds simultaneously to these actions, marking his death. A light burst into the darkened sky creating an image and a broken wail erupts from me when I see the head-shot of Cato Ludwig created by pixels in the night sky. Beneath the photos reads the simple words, _runner-up, District 2. _They didn't even have the heart to put his name. Do they even know his name? Suddenly I am violently sick to my left pooling beside Cato's corpse.

I cannot help but laugh with a small fragment of glee, if the Gamemakers had planted something poisonous in this arena which I have consumed and it was now in the final stages of killing me, they won't have a victor. The entire game would have been pointless. And President Snow, along with Seneca Crane, will look like idiots in front of the entire nations.

Setting down Cato's body, gently and carefully like he is still alive and injured. Stumbling backwards, I remove Iris's necklace and replace it with Cato's, watching the gold plating glisten in the evening stars. Tucking Iris's locket in Cato's pocket seemed a reasonable idea allowing it to return home to District 2 where someone will hopefully have the common sense to return it to her family because I've realised it wasn't my place to be sentimental or noble, I killed her so there is no point in pretending she meant something to me.

Standing hunch backed and wobbly on my legs, I wait for the hovercraft to collect Cato's body, for the trumpets of victory that should follow but nothing happens. Maybe I should move away from the body, but I wasn't certain if that rule applied now. Do you have to distance yourself from the dead tribute on the final kill? My brain is too muddled to be sure but what else could be the reason for the delay? Looking round, I notice something glistening in the medium light of the stars. Cato's sword. Without thinking I have already sprinted over to the weapon and grasped it firmly in my shaking hands, I feel the need to cling onto this weapon because it has been at Cato's side the entire duration of these games, protected and defended him.

Gripping the sword, the hovercraft hasn't appeared yet and I begin to wonder if Cato was in fact dead, yes, he isn't breathing, his heart has stopped. Have I miscounted? Is there one tribute left that I have missed? No, I've counted every single cannon. Twenty-three. Suddenly, in a fit of light, another face appeared in the night-time sky. One more child: my own.

_Anastasia Hollern – District 4._

"What? Hey!" I scream up into the sky, this doesn't make sense! How can they think I've died, I am stood right here, in the middle of the arena. Has my tracker malfunctioned? No, there camera's are all angled on me no doubt because there isn't anything else to focus on, not to be vain. "I'm right here – I'm alive –"

I was silenced by the words that are suddenly written in fire beneath my name and picture. _VICTOR. _The trumpets begin to blare followed by the loud drums, violins and other instruments join in the anthem. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Eighty-fourth Hunger Games, I give you, the female tribute of District 4 – Anastasia Hollern!" the proud and formal voice of Claudius Templesmith says with joy.

For some reason, it hadn't really hit me until I heard the announcement. I had won the Hunger Games. I was going home to see my brother; to see District 4; to see Leila, Finnick, Annie and Mags. Breathlessly, I sink to my knees as my heart palpates inside my hollow chest, I am now the fifth victor from District 4.

The roar of the crowds in the Capitol that they're playing live over the speakers into the arena are so loud I am not even aware of the hovercraft that has appeared overhead, dropping a ladder which almost smacks me in the face. There is not a chance in the world I am going to discard this weapon to the floor. I step onto the first rung of the ladder, holding on tightly with my left hand and wrapping my right arm around the side to keep myself balanced. An electric current freezes me into place which I'm glad about because I am uncertain if I can hold on for the short trip to the interior of the metallic hovercraft above me.

Doctors in sterile white, masks and gloves are prepared for the worse, ready to operate if necessary. Clearly they saw me throw up in the arena, behind a glass window in front of me there is a silver table with various wires; tubes and sacks of fluid ready for use. For a moment I forget I am out of the Games and I see every staff member as a threat, one more pack of mutts designed to kill me. Petrified, I lung for the man, a Peacekeeper, who attempts to take Cato's sword from me but I'm caught by another and thrust back into another room, "If that sword isn't in my room when I get back to the Capitol! You won't have a victor!" I bellow and spit with venom making sure I was loud enough for everyone to hear.

I catch a glimpse of the a team of four men wheel a bed across the space in front of me. The body they carry belongs to Cato. The use of a glass wall separates me and the medic staff but that doesn't stop me from pounding on the glass, smudging dirt and blood over the wall, screaming my head off to get someone's attention but everyone the other side of the glass ignores me except for a Capitol attendant who appears behind me and offers me a beverage.

I refuse, slumping down on the floor, my face against the door as I attempt to see passed the glass to see where they take Cato. The attendant forcefully hands me the drink causing me to only stare uncomprehendingly at the crystal glass in my hand. Icy cold, filled with orange juice, a straw with a frilly white collar. How wrong it looks in my bloody, filthy hand with dirt-caked nails and cuts. Uncontrollably, my mouth waters at the smell of the Capitol drink but I throw it back at the attendant that flinches away as the orange liquid splashes over the white walls and uniform. I am not going to trust anything so clean and pretty.

Finding my feet, I am startled when I catch someone staring at me from only a few centimetres away, then I realize it's my own face reflecting back in the glass. Wild eyes, hollow cheeks, my short hair is tangled and matted. Rabid. Feral and mad. No wonder everyone is keeping a safe distance from me. I look fucking mental.

The next thing I know, we have landed back on the roof of the Training Centre and they all begin to leave without me. I start hurling myself against the glass, shrieking but through the dirty glass and my distorted vision, I think I just catch a glimpse of red hair – it must be Dieter, it has to be Dieter coming to my rescue – then a sharp needle jabs me from behind and the image goes black.

* * *

**A/N: ****Anastasia is now a victor. ****Review my lovely readers! **


	45. Chapter 45: The Hospital

Chapter Forty-five.

**The Hospital.**

When I wake, I'm afraid to move. The entire ceiling glows with a soft yellow light, allowing me to see that I'm in a room containing just the bed I lay in. No doors, no windows are visible. The air smells of something sharp and antiseptic. My left am has several tubes that extend to the wall behind me. Much to my embarrassment, I'm naked but the bedclothes are soothing against my skin. I gently lift my right hand above the cover to see that not only has it been scrubbed clean, the nails are filed in perfect ovals and the stab wound is healed and far less prominent. I touch my face and lips to feel the faint bump of new scars but they are almost non existent to feel. Gently clicking my fingers together beside my hears I am shocked to find it better than it was when I first entered the Games.

I try and sit up but the doctor, or whoever is in charge of my well-being has made sure some sort of wide restraining hand around my waist keeps me from rising more than a few centimetres. The physical confinement makes me panic and I'm trying to pull myself up and wriggle my hips through the bands putting pressure on my stomach. Then a portion of the wall slides open and in steps the Avox boy carrying a tray. The sight of him calms me down and I stop trying to escape, I have a million and one questions I want to ask him but I'm afraid any familiarity would cause him harm. Obviously I am being closely monitored. He sets the tray down across from my thighs and presses something that raises me into sitting position whilst he adjusts my pillows. The young boy has been made-up once again with another hair colour to match his freshly made up face. Plum purple.

Risking one question, I say it out loud as clearly as my rusty voice will allow, nothing seems secretive. "Michael's okay?" I ask. The boy gives me a nod as he slips a spoon into my hand, I feel the pressure of something strange, maybe friendship. I guess he didn't want me dead after all the nagging and mood-swings. Of course Michael is okay, it's ludicrous to think otherwise.

"Please don't leave." I mumble as the Avox turns and leaves. The door closes noiselessly after him. My plead is left hanging in the air so I turn hungrily to the tray. A bowl of clear broth, a small serving of apple sauce and a glass of water. _Is this even the Capitol? _I think grouchily, shouldn't my homecoming dinner be a little more spectacular? But as I tuck in, I find it's an effort to finish the spare meal before me. My stomach appears to have shrunk to the size of a chestnut and I have to think how long I have been out because I had no trouble eating in the arena.

There is usually a lag of a few days between the end of the competition and the presentation of the victor so that they can put the starving and wounded mess of a person back together again. Somewhere, Vibia is creating my wardrobe for the public appearances. Finnick, Michael and Dieter will be arranging the banquet for my sponsors. Reviewing the questions for my final interviews. Back home, District 4 is probably in chaos as they try and organize the homecoming celebration for me. Home! Annie and Mags! Leila! Even that stupid cow of a mother makes me smile. Soon I will be home.

I wanted to get out of this bed, to see Michael and Finnick, to find out more about what's been happening. And why wouldn't I be allowed out. I feel fine but as I start to work my way out of the band, I feel a cold liquid seeping into my veins from one of the tubes and almost immediately lose consciousness.

This happens on and off for an indeterminate amount of time. My waking, eating followed by my trying to escape my bed before being knocked out again. I seem to be in a strange continual twilight. Only a few things register. The purple haired Avox has not returned since the first feeding, my scars have almost completely disappeared and then, do I imagine it? Or am I hearing a man's voice speaking? In a strange Capitol accent, then in a wave of mixed feelings, I cannot help but having a vague feel that someone is looking over me and when I eventually come to terms with the harsh lighting, I see his face.

The ovalness of his face contrasts well with his tall, lanky figure with natural pink lips and flawless skin with large surgically altered eyes in the ghastly colour of lime green. I choke, _lime green, _without a thought, I have shifted to the opposite side of the bed with the attempt to escape from this creature as for a spit second, frozen in time I am back in the Games being surrounded by twenty-three pairs of these eyes. Snarling and snapping.

"No, no!" I scream waving my arms with my hands balled into fists, "Stay back!" I hiss.

The man steps back with cation, not challenging me like a Capitol creation would and so the evil melts away to reveal a smile that looks and feels too good to be true. I can now look at him fully and not so close up, the man is middle aged wearing a long white coat, the white shirt beneath is perfectly ironed without a crease with trousers to match.

"It's okay, Anastasia." the man speaks softly, taking a steps towards me which I allow. "I'm Doctor Fords."

Simply staring at him with a twitch in my left eyebrow is how I reply but he doesn't seem happy about my lack of vocabulary, "So?" I ask. His man is from the Capitol, the same place where no-one takes part in the Games, the living purpose of the other district are to create things so they can live more luxurious, we are nothing but workmen and entertainment. I have no interest whatsoever in being pleasant to this man.

"When can I get up?" I ask firmly.

Dr. Fords lets out a muffled sigh, so much for nice small talk but I am certain in his line of work, he has met victors far more ruder and unpredictable than I. "Not yet, I'm afraid." he tells me but there is no sympathy in his voice.

"Why not?" my voice has elevated.

The doctor walks in large strides measuring to his height, the man walks to the end of my bed in only a couple of steps. I never noticed it before but the doctor has a clipboard held closely to his chest like he is concealing the information from me. "Because, Miss. You still have some healing to take." the doctor informs me, I cannot understand how he is so calm and peaceful as he speaks to me, without any notion of caring what has happened to me. What I've had to do in order to survive and what I've had to witness inside the arena.

I raise my arms before using them to gesture – rather sarcastically – to my face, arms and the rest of my body. "No, I don't. You're a doctor, look at me! I am healed!" I object,

Dr. Ford swallows a lump in his throat making his Adam's apple bob in a rather unsavoury manor, "Yes, Miss Hollern, you have healed, rather remarkable but unfortunately –"

My eyes widen in annoyance with my neck extended forwards as he trails off giving me a look as if he wasn't planning to continue on. "Unfortunately what?" my voice has elevated slightly more turning into a screech for answers the doctor was holding back from me.

Peering down at the clipboard he holds dear, Dr. Ford removes a small piece of paper from the clasp, big enough for a postcard. The back of the paper if white but I imagine the front holds something worth my time to see and the man walks around the bed to stand beside me, with a deep breath in and releasing it painfully slowly, he takes one last look at the photo before flickering back to me and studying me, no doubt trying to figure out what I am thinking and my mental stability.

"But what?" I almost bellow in his face.

The doctor hands me the photo. It's black and white in a strange dipping rectangle, placed in the near centre of the patchy picture was a jelly-bean patch of pure black. I look at the doctor to see if he can aid me on what I am suppose to be looking at. "You're baby still needs treatment." he tells me gentle. The picture is an ultrasound scan.

_My baby._

* * *

**A/N: Dropped the baby-bomb on you all. By show of hands, how many of you dislike me now? I'm really sorry, but I thought it would be a good plot twist. Make sure you all review telling me how much you dislike me at this moment in time and/or if you like it :) Review!**


	46. Chapter 46: Old Ending, New Beginning

Chapter Forty-six.

**Twenty-three Lives End, Another Begins.**

A minute passes, followed by two and three before swiftly being taken away by four, five and six. Dr. Fords speaks my name several times before I register the calls properly, my fingers have curled into fists as they shake with a odd feeling, unintentionally crumpling the picture into a ball. Surly this isn't real, it has to be fake. It has to be.

"How?" I whisper to myself, stupidly.

Dr. Fords hesitates awkwardly before swallowing a second lump, "Well, when a boy... and a girl –"

Clamping my fists over my ears, "Stop, I know how it happened!" I interrupted, begging him to stop speaking.

Returning to the foot of my bed, the young doctor studies my files with hawk-like eyes as he thinks silently but his silence is like an invitation to do the same. To think. My hand falls to my stomach in a feeble manor, so all this time I thought the sickness was a punishment from the Capitol but it wasn't, I was making myself ill.

"We scanned you almost immediately after you were sedated, Seneca Crane insisted upon it." Dr. Fords informed me, of course Seneca Crane had, nothing would suck up the President more than being the only person to think the tribute may be pregnant, all the others must have turned a blind-eye to my situation. Wishing me dead quicker so they can spend more time tearing down the stronger tributes.

"How far along?" I find myself asking. No point turning a blind-eye to myself.

Dr. Fords checked his sheets, "Little over two weeks, meaning you must have conceived –"

"Before the Games started." I finish his sentence, he nods to confirm my theory. Then I am sick, thankfully missing the bed but it splatters over the floor like a painting however I am not bothered. The Capitol deserves much fouler things than my vomit but my hard outer-shell shatters and break into sobs for knowing I only created half of the being that's growing inside of me.

"What's the status on the father?" Dr. Ford asks softly.

Sharply looking up, I am suddenly filled with rage, "That is non of your business."

A muffled laughter is released from the doctors throat, it's the first time the young doctor has broken his perfectly concealed shell and released something that seems unnatural upon doctors, not really amongst the Capitol people, they tend to laugh at anything. "I really hate to bring up a rather gruesome fact but the entire nation did watch the end of your Games. The refusal, the kiss and the heartbreaking goodbye," Dr. Fords filed me in, "And sooner or later when this news is leaked, people are going to put two and two together." he tells me bluntly.

Of course they will, no doubt Caesar Flickerman has been alerted along with the President. It was childish of me to think I could keep this secret to myself. Safe and hidden. I will get larger and bigger before the end result. A baby. A fatherless child and I cannot hide the evidence under my shirt until then, or maybe I can stop this now, save both of us from the trouble.

"I assume President Snow knows about this?" I ask, gesturing to my crumpled ultrasound picture.

Dr. Fords nods with a grim expression, "Along with all the Gamemakers and Seneca Crane."

"Anyone else?" I ask sarcastically, not expecting him to answer but of course he does, simply to add more salt to my wounds.

"Caesar Flickerman." he lets out.

This is unbelievable, with all these nosey pricks knowing my secret, it'll spread like wildfire through the Capitol then it's only a matter of time before the rest of the districts will find out through my victors interview. Cato's family will find out via television, his parents will become grandparent without ever being able to see their grandchild. I am unaware if Cato had siblings but they would become uncles and aunties which never will be able to lavish whatever love they will have for this baby upon it. Oh God, Cato never knew, he will never.

Removing my hand from my stomach and tucking the photo beneath the blanket, "Can we abort it?" I ask, seriously.

The doctor stares at me with sorry eyes, "I'm sorry Anastasia but it's out of both of our hands. President Snow as ordered –"

"President Snow doesn't have a right to control me!" I scream.

Dr. Fords stands his ground against my angry yell. His face remains steel and professional. "Calm down, Miss." he suggests.

A red mist seeps into my vision, "Calm down?!" I being to bellow, "That's your brilliant piece of advice to me? Calm fucking down!" I screech, suddenly the band was the enemy, scratching and trying to find the way to undo it became my aim. "Let me out!" I spit but Dr. Fords attempted to stop me however I must be stronger than anticipated because I shoved him off. My left arm ached due to the tubes but that didn't stop me removing several until a familiar cooling sensation travelled down the mist of my upper arm. As the red mist cleared and became fuzz, three men in white Peacekeeper uniforms stumbled into the room before everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: President Snow has already begun to attentively take control of Anastasia and the situation at hand, giving her no other option to be a mother to the baby she and Cato hadn't planned. But is she starting to go a little crazy? Yelling and screaming, is this the effect the Games are going to have on her? Or will they worsen?**

**Review. **


	47. Chapter 47: The Reunion

Chapter Forty-seven.

**The Reunion.**

I am not certain how long they've kept me under sedation but I don't wake up for a while which allows my mind to overload with terrifying dreams. Then finally, the time arrives when I come to and there's nothing plunged into my right arm. The restraint around my middle has been removed and I am free to move about. I start to sit up but I'm stunned by the sight of my hands. The skin's almost perfected, smooth and glowing with only a faint hint of a scar. My arms are also glowing with beautiful flawless skin, the talons from the bird mutts are barely visible.

Slipping my legs out of bed, I am nervous about how they will bear my weight but I find them strong and steady. Neatly folded at the foot of my bed lays an outfit that makes me flinch because it's the same outfit us tributes wore in the arena. I stare at it as if it's got teeth until I remember that, of course, this is what I will wear to greet my team.

I am dressed relatively quickly making sure to study my scars, still baffled by how the Capitol doctors managed to airbrush my body. Leaving the scars almost invisible to the naked eye but I remember the pain and the location. I know where the cuts where and it's hard to see my body without them. Once I'm dressed, I fidget in front of the wall where I know there's a door, even if I can't see it when suddenly it slides open. I step into a wide, deserted hall that appears to have no other doors on it. But it must because behind one if my team. My family. And now that I'm conscious and moving, I am growing more and more anxious about them. They must be all right or the Avox boy wouldn't have said so, but I need to see him – my brother – for myself.

"Michael! Finnick!" I call out since there's no one to ask where they are. I hear my voice in response but it's not either of their voices but it's a voice that provokes, at first, irritation and then eagerness. Dieter Rollo. Sharply turning, I see them all waiting in a big chamber at the end of the hall – Dieter, Michael and Finnick. My feet take off without hesitation. Maybe a victor should show more restraint, more superiority, especially when she knows this will be on tape but I don't care. I run for them and launch myself into my brothers arms.

My fingers curl around his shirt as I bury my face into the crook of his neck. His hands are tight around my middle pulling my stomach into his abdomen for a tighter hug. I peek at Finnick from Michael's neck, he is grinning, waiting for me to become available for a hug. When he squeezes me a little too tightly, I let out a muffled whimper which makes him release me. "How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"As well as can be expected." I reply.

Finnick just hugs me and doesn't say anything, which, silently, I am glad of because we'll get to have a good conversation later. Dieter is somewhat teary and keeps patting my hair and talking about how he told everyone I was a diamond and a fighter. Then I notice Vibia is absent and I get a bad feeling.

"Where's Vibia?" I blurt out.

"She's fine." says Michael.

Dieter chuckles, almost pushing my elder sibling out of the way to join in the semi-circle before me. "She most certainly is not _fine._" a flash flood of panic races through me but Dieter quickly clears up my fear, "The poor woman has been working non-stop for days to create the perfect outfit for you." he explodes with happiness and his bright clothes begin to hurt my eyes.

"Go with your brother." Finnick advices, "He'll take you too Vibia, she needs to get you ready."

It's a relief to be alone with Michael, to feel his protective arm around my shoulders as he guides me away from the hidden cameras, down a few passages and to an elevator that leads to the lobby of the Training Centre. Meaning the hospital is far underground, even beneath the gym where the tributes practised tying knots and wielding weapons. The windows of the lobby are darkened and a handful of guards stand on duty. No one else is there to see us cross to the tribute elevator. Our footsteps echo in the emptiness.

"So, I'm going to be an uncle?" Michael asks once we are concealed in the glass elevator. As we ride up to the fourth floor, the faces of all the tributes who will never return flash across my mind and there's a heavy, tight place in my chest.

I swallow the lump of tension which has formed in my throat. "It looks that way." I reply in a whisper.

Michael doesn't reply, instead he rummages in his pocket, digging deep like I had watched my mother do countless times between sofa cushions for coins. After a moment, we have passed the third floor when Michael removes a necklace, the necklace Cato had given me. The shiny spear head trinket shines in the artificial light of the elevator. "I guess you want this." Michael says, not even asking me because he secretly already knows the answer. Of course I want it and I allow Michael to lace the necklace around my throat, is it stupid to say when the cold metal touched my skin, a strange stir swirled in my stomach.

"Are you mad?" I ask.

Michael chuckles, "Yes," he replies truthfully, "Of course I am mad at you. Anastasia, you're pregnant!" he hisses a little angry, "Worst of all, you got pregnant before the Games, meaning you had your mind on something other than staying a live!" he snaps.

I flinch at his words, "I was living before it ended because I was afraid. You saw the competition I was against, line me up without talking to me, I didn't stand a chance." I snap. The elevator pauses at our floor and opens its doors automatically for us but I wasn't finished. "But it wasn't some fling, I fell in love. Stupid, crazy love and yes, it may seem like it was a bad idea now but I wouldn't regret it, or take it back." I snap back at him, nastier than he had me.

Then, stood right in front of me, my brother Michael smiles a small smile. The corners of his mouth turned upwards but where suppressed slightly to form a mysterious smile. "That was a test, you passed." he chuckles before stepping out of the elevator pulling me forwards so I didn't get crushed.

"What?" I ask rather confused.

Michael turned to face me, "I wanted to know how you really felt: about the baby and about Cato." he replies.

I raise an eyebrow, "So, you're not mad?"

My brother lets out a howl of laughter, alerting the people inside the apartment, "Of course I'm mad, just not as much as I would have been if it was a meaningless fuck before the Games." he winks before opening the door to the District 4 apartment, allowing me to be struck will the full force of my overly excited prep-team.

Coren, Shazza and, surprisingly, Tiberius engulf me, all talking far to quickly and ecstatically that I cannot make out their words. The sentiment is clear, though. They are thrilled to see me and I am happy to see them, too, although not like I was to see Vibia who vacates me bedroom, strutted down the corridor in ridiculously high-heels to embrace me. Vibia was the one person beside Michael, who understood me, didn't pry on what I would and would not tell her. I had missed by stylist in the way one might be glad to see an affectionate pet at the end of a difficult day.

They sweep me into the dining room and I get a proper meal – roast lamp and broccoli with soft roll baked into triangles – my portions are still being strictly controlled and everything has been filled with nutrients, vitamins and minerals. However as I eat my food like a pig, earning me several disgusted looks from Dieter and Tiberius but I don't give a shit, not now but as I eat the food provided, I feel they aren't packing it full of goodness for me, instead they are going it to ensure the healthiness of the baby growing within me. To keep it growing well inside a destructive mother with a equally messed up brother and a depressing background of death and abandonment. I know the meals are being kept a certain size because when I ask for seconds, I'm refused.

"No, no, no. They don't want it all coming back up on the stage." says Shazza but she secretly slips me another triangle roll under the table to let me know she's on my side. We all go back into my room and Vibia disappears for a while as my prep-team, plus Tiberius, gets me ready for the Capitol interview with Caesar.

Standing before my prep-team naked, unlike the first time this strange situation accrued, I'm no longer bothered.

"Oh, they did a full body polish on you," Coren says, enviously. "Hardly any flaw left on your body."

_Hardly_, of course there still are small traces of evidence vouching for my time in the Games, but when I look at my naked self in the mirror, all I can see is how skinny I am, not the gentle three stripped talon marks that decorate my body. I suppose I must have been worse when I came out of the arena but I can easily count my ribs, something I had never been able to do before, which isn't a positive note.

Tiberius takes care of the shower settings for me, Shazza and Coren go to work on my hair, nails whilst, for some odd reason, Tiberius asks for my permission – he actually asked – if he could be responsible for my make-up. I let him because he seems to miss being team leader, considering, Garrett is no longer here with us. When I'm done, they chatter continuously for so long that I barely have to reply, in face I zone out completely after a while, which is great since I don't feel very talkative.

It's sickening, because even though they're rattling on about the Games, it isn't about how anyone else is effected, it's all about where or what they were doing or how they had felt when a specific event occurred. When the bird mutations where released into the arena, Coren exclaims, "I was just having a new piercing!" – which was been added through the skin between his eyes – Shazza claims "I was still asleep" when I killed Iris Castillo. Everything is about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena – that pissed me off but I kept quiet. We don't wallow around in the Games this way in District 4, instead we celebrate seeing that being reaped is an honour. The families that don't agree grit their teeth and watch because afterwards we all must return to pre-Hunger Games living, business and schooling standards as soon as they're over. And so in order to keep my prep-team from regretting not wishing me dead, I effectively tune out most of what they are saying.

Vibia comes in with what appears to be a full length, turquoise dress and gold sash across her arm. I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Have you given up on the whole 'princess' thing?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow at me, making the rings in her brows clink, "You tell me." she says, and slips it over my head guiding my arms into the sleeves provided, I automatically notice the padding over my breasts adding the curves stolen from me by the hunger. My hands go to my chest before the Games I wasn't particularly small breasted, but I guess soon I won't have to worry about that however I still frown with disappointment.

"I know." Vibia says before I can object, "But with your, delicate condition, the President refused to allow doctors to surgically alter you in anyway." She stops me from checking my reflection, "Wait, don't forget the shoes." Vibia helps me into a pair of turquoise shoes with a inch heel on the back and then I am allow to turn to the mirror.

The image that greets me makes me question if this is all real. I am still a 'princess'. The sheer turquoise fabric floats to the ground, the dress is held only on my left shoulder. The sleeves are slit open until the middle of my upper arms then reopened until my wrists leaving my skin bare, showing everyone how well I have recovered. Vibia then ties the gold sash around my waist to complete the look. Mixed together, this beautiful dress was the simplest but in some form, it made it my favourite.

"What do you think?" asks Vibia.

When I manage to look away from the fabric, I'm in for something more of a shock. My hair has been allowed to curl beneath my cheekbone on the right side of my face, held away from my eyes with a diamanté clip. The make-up Tiberius applied rounds and softens the sharp angles of my face. A clear polish coats my nails, the padding eliminates any appearance of be being underweight, giving me back a nice, whole figure. Truthfully, I look very simple, like a little girl. Fourteen at the most: innocent and harmless. Yes, it's shocking that Vibia has managed to pull this off when you remember and place into consideration that I've just won the Games, and what I had to do in order to ensure my survival.

Vibia steps forwards to stand directly behind me, "What's wrong?" she asks.

"I just thought the whole princess theme would be over when the Games begun –"

"– You don't like it?" she interrupts.

I shake my head turning round to face her properly instead of staring at her reflection. "No, I love it. I guess I assumed it would be a little more... sophisticated." I tell her honestly.

"I thought President Snow would like this better." Vibia answers carefully. President Snow? No, it's not really about him. It's about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience. Although I do not yet understand the continuation of Vibia's design, it's a reminder of the Games are not quite finished. And beneath her benign reply, I sense a warning. Of something she cannot even mention in front of his own team. It must be something bad.

In silence, we take the elevator to the level where I trained making sure to decorate the marble floor with my vomit. Michael hisses what I think is a swear word whilst the others jump backwards, except Finnick who dashes off to get a member of the Capitol staff. It it wasn't for Dr. Fords confession about the child, I would have happily put the sickening down to being nervous but it wasn't that simple, not anymore.

It's customary for the victor and his or her support team to rise from beneath the stage. First the prep-team followed by the escort, the stylist, the mentor – well, mentor's considering this year we had two – and finally, the victor. Me. I find myself poorly lit under the stage, a brand-new metal plate has been installed to transport me upwards. You can still see small piles of sawdust, smell the fresh paint. Vibia and the prep-team peel off to change into their own costumes and take their positions, leaving me alone.

In the gloom of the corridor mixed with the rumbling of the crowd which is far too loud, I don't notice Finnick until he touches me shoulder. In my dress, I spring away, startled as half of my mind is still in the arena, I guess.

"Easy, just me. Let's have a look at you," Finnick orders softly, I hold out my arms and turn once, "Lovely."

Finnick's lack of a compliment was shocking, considering he was nicknamed Mr Flirts-A-Lot – "But?" I ask.

Mr Odair's eyes shift around my messy aura as he thinks, which is odd for Finnick because he always seems to have something smart, snide or charming to say back but today, it takes Finnick Odair slightly longer to reply, "But nothing. How about a hug for luck?" he asks. It's not so much an odd request from Finnick but after all, together we are victors. Maybe a nice hug for luck is in order. Only when I put my arms around his neck, I find myself trapped in his embrace. His lips brush against my neck before trailing up to my ear making me squirm but his strong arms keep he held close, then he begins to speak. Very fast and very quickly into my ear. My newly grown hair conceals his lips.

"Listen up. You, Miss Hollern, are in trouble. Word is the Capitol is furious about you and Cato showing them up in the arena. The refusal and challenging Crane. The one thing they can't stand is being laughed at, and they're the joke of Panem," Finnick hisses.

Dread courses through me but I laugh as though Finnick is saying something completely delightful because nothing is covering my mouth. "So what?" I ask.

"Your only defence can be that you two were so madly in love, you weren't responsible for your actions. Plus, you being pregnant will hopefully cool some of the heat but I cannot be sure," Finnick then pulls back and adjusts a strand of hair, "Got it, Princess?" he could be talking about anything now.

"Got it." I smile with fake happiness,taking the opportunity to straighten the gold and blue tie not that Vibia must have forced him to wear.

Finnick rummages about in his pocket for a minute before pulling out two shining trinkets. My golden bracelet from Dieter and the silver necklace Cato had given me minutes before he died. I take the bracelet and slip it on before Finnick gestures for me to turn around so he can clasp the chain around my throat, to be on the safe side I tuck the spearhead into the front of my chest only allowing the silver chain to be visible to the audience and Caesar Flickerman. "Perfect." he purrs.

I roll my eyes with a chuckle, I've missed him. "Thank you, Finnick." I whisper.

Finnick winks as if to say _"you're welcome"_ before touching my lower back, "Better take our places." he leads me over to the metal circle. "This is your night Princess. Enjoy it." he kisses me on the side of the mouth, the familiar spot that can only be associated with Iris Castillo's blade. I cling onto the sleeve of his shirt as he attempts to walk away, "You'll be fine." he assures me before walking away, disappearing into the gloom of the area.

Out of nerves, I attempt to straighten my dress and flatten my hair using the palm of my hand trying to make sure it's sitting perfectly but I trust Vibia to have set it neatly. Then I realise it's pointless, my entire body is shaking like a leaf but hopefully it will be put down to excitement. After all, it's my night. A cold, clammy sweat breaks out on my skin and I cannot rid myself of the feeling that the boards above my head are about to collapse, to bury me alive under the rubble with the damp, mouldy smell beneath the stage threatens to choke me.

When I left the arena when the trumpets played, I was supposed to be safe. From then on. For the rest of my life but if what Finnick is saying was in face true – and he's got no reason to lie – I've never been in such a dangerous place in my life. It's so much worse then being hunted in the arena. There, only I could die. End of story, the life inside me wouldn't barely notice plus I wasn't aware. But out there, Leila, my mother, Michael, the people of District 4, everyone I've ever known or cared about back home could be punished for my actions inside the arena.

I still have a chance to win over the audience with our secret love story. It's rather humour because inside the arena when I screamed at the sky. I was only thinking of humiliating the Gamemakers and not how my actions would reflect on the Capitol. But the Hunger Games are their weapons and you're not supposed to be able to defeat it.

As I stand motionless, waiting for the ground to move, questions unravel inside my mind: will I be a disgust back home because of my actions before the Games? Will I be treated different because of my actions? Hated for what I did out of anger to the Capitol? Despised because of the pregnancy? Or will they just be pleased to have me back? – I suppose only getting back this the only way to figure out the answers but right now, the most dangerous part of the Hunger Games is about to begin.

* * *

**A/N: The Interviews are about to begin. Michael seems to be open minded about the situation but does the speak of a rebellion seem likely? Does Finnick have a plan or is he as clueless about the situation as Anastasia? I wonder what will happen in the interview. Review!**


	48. Chapter 48: Ceremonies and Celebrations

Chapter Forty-eight.

**Victor ****Ceremonies and Celebrations.**

The anthem booms in my ears and then I heard Caesar Flickerman greeting the audience. Does he know how critical it is to get every word right from now on? He must, he will want to help me, surely. The crowd breaks into applause as my prep-team is presented. I can only imagine Coren and Shazza bouncing around taking ridiculous bobbing bows. It's a safe bet they're clueless. Then Dieter is introduced, he has done this before with Michael and has a very keen instinct about certain things, I suspect she knows we're in trouble. Vibia receives a huge cheer for her creations and now I understand the aim of this evenings dress, it's designed to make me look as innocent as possible. Finnick and Michael's appearance brings of roars, cheers and showers of kisses for at least five minutes. Then suddenly from beneath me, I can feel the metal plate lifting me up onto the stage.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" Caesar announces, "Lets give a huge, an enormous round of applause to the victor of the Eighty-fourth Hunger Games – Anastasia Louise Hollern!"

_Louise? _How the hell did they get my last name? I shouldn't be surprised the Capitol knows everything and their isn't time to question it as I am whisked up onto the center of the stage. Blinding lights mixed with the deafening roar of the crowd rattles the metal underneath my feet. The others have been taken away so I cannot even peer into the front row for Michael's steadying gaze. I am alone but thankfully, Caesar Flickerman must smell my nerves like a Bloodhound and engulfs me in a hug with a light-hearted kiss to the lips before guiding me to the victor's chair just behind where I was risen onto the stage.

"How are you feeling tonight?" Caesar asks, genially sounding concerned.

I cannot help but smile at the multicoloured man seated across from me, "As well as can be expected, Caesar." I reply, knowing I have said it before puts me at ease, thinking of my brother seated across from me in replacement of Mr Flickerman.

Caesar Flickerman makes a few more jokes but then, it's time for the show which will last a life-sucking three hours and is required viewing for all of Panem with no pauses in between. No doubt an Avox will be sent to offer us drinks and food if hunger strikes us but after two weeks of minuscule portions, some days without eating at all, three hours is a walk in the park without food or water.

As the lights dim and the seal appears on the enormous screen behind us, I realize I'm unprepared for this. I do not want to watch my twenty-three fellow tributes die, I saw enough of them die the first time, several by my own hands which of course will be played when we reach the arena highlights. My heart starts pounding and I have a strong impulse to run; wondering how the hell the other victors have sat through this alone keeps me seated and still. I wonder how much of a drag the person having to put together this highlight package considering how many camera's are going at once but they have a simple line to follow, me. The first half an hour focuses on the pre-arena events; the reaping, the tribute parade through the Capitol, our training scores and finishing off with our interviews. There's this up-beat soundtrack playing under it that makes it twice as awful because, of course, everyone on screen aside from me, is dead. Garrett, Alden, Cassandra, Waylon and Cato, all smiled faces with strange Capitol outfits that display nothing of what or who they really were are a human being, as a person.

The next hour is a detailed coverage of our time in the arena, especially the bloodbath and then the filmmakers basically flicker and alternate between shots of tributes being slaughter or dying from natural causes and shots of me, every shot catches me and Alden joking, Cassandra and I snuggling in the sleeping bag for warmth on our watches but then it turns hollow, Waylon's death followed by the run-in with the Careers, Alden's death with myself and Cassandra hiding and then hers, a snippet of me singing echoes in the background, an added effect to mess with me. Naturally, every single kill is shown, including the snapping of Iris's neck which is given a special effect, the turning motion happens several times before the video follows through with the entire killing. I even produce a small smirk when I watch Cassandra kill Jacqueline, no doubt that has been filmed on stage. The mutts snapping and snarling, the look on my face when I find Garrett dead, the running, climbing and then Cato. Something inside me shuts down as they reach the end and I am too numb to feel anything as Cato's death is displayed, the kiss, the refusal and holding him until he slipped away from me completely, the filmmakers slip over some of it making sure to leave the juicy, _"I love you"_'s in for the Capitol audience who release signs, cries and awh's. Caesar even looks a bit teary eyed as I peek over. Then I am announced the winner of this years Games but in my eyes I haven't registered it properly. In previous years, much like this years, a camera is always kept on the victors face whilst others capture different angles, some victors are triumphant, pumping their fists into the air, beating their chests and others are angry but most seen stunned which is why I don't feel so irregular when I match several previous victors faces. The last two weeks tightly packed into an hour and a half video.

Then the video flicks off to reveal the seal of Panem once again but Caesar turns to me, the audience hushed and silent as they all watch me but I keep stoned face, willing myself not to cry on this stage, not to admit defeat but the water-line of my eyes fill with salty tears but I don't let them fall down my cheeks. I breath muffed breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth, keeping myself steady on the throne.

"Anastasia, it's good to see you again. Are you well?" Caesar Flickerman asked.

Is he fucking kidding me? Am I well? I just spent two weeks inside living hell committing crimes I would have been giving a life sentence in prison for. Four murders, all done by me, all brought on by my overwhelming urging to stay alive a little longer. Watching children I considered to be my friends killed or turn on me, one I killed myself. _Calm down, _Finnick's soft voice echoes in my head as my heart rate raises with anger. _Calm down, calm down._

"I'm well, Caesar. Happy to back." I reply with a fake smile and happy tone. The crowd chuckles along with Caesar who simply smiles at me but his eyes know that I'm really not okay and I most certainly am not happy to be back in the Capitol.

"And, if I may speak for everyone out there, a very well done for your efforts in this years Games, you were marvellous!" Mr Flickerman exploded happily, clapping his hands, stomping his feet in unison with the crowd that spills over with uncontrollably happiness, people throw flowers and shower me in kisses. Unintentionally, a flower lands in my lap and when I pick it up to smile in the direction of the thrower, I see Cato wearing a shiny silver suit, his interview outfit, with a large smile spread across his face. I stand up automatically, expecting him to come on stage, engulf me in his arms but he doesn't and looking down at the flower I recognise it immediately as the flower he'd given me before the Games. A yellow rose with red tips. Looking back at the thrower, Cato's image has been replaced with a Capitol woman, electric green hair with an identical flower pinned to the side wearing a black suit that looks as if it's made entirely out of reptile scales.

A touch on my bare forearm snaps me back to reality when I hear Caesar's gentle voice coach me back to my seat but the audience are oblivious to the reason for me standing. Maybe the thrower thought I was going to thank them properly. I retake my seat and Caesar continues on with the interview, talking about Waylon and why I had saved him before recapping a small video clip of the killing of District 11's female tribute which makes the audience cringe but also cheer but then the killing of Waylon comes up in conversations and I cannot speak, stunned silently by the though of my hands clapped around his throat as I restrict his airways.

"Why did you help him?" Caesar asks, I am confused and I simply furrow my brows at the interviewer until he catches on the hint to explain further into what he wanted me to say. "Why didn't you just leave him to die in the cave? Why end his suffering?" the man asked.

A chuckle, a sarcastic and sinister laugh is released from my mouth before I can even acknowledge it's happened, Caesar Flickerman looks taken back along with most of the audience. Then I get angry with myself because I might as well just draw a target on my chest considering I am making myself a bigger one but I guess I don't care, they have taken everything from me. My love, my chance for a normal life and my sanity. Everything stripped from me within a matter of three weeks.

"He was a dying child. Anyone with half a heart could see he was suffering and he asked me to help and I agreed because I don't have the guts to simply stand by and watch." I reply, as sweetly as possibly but the hard edge to my words are too bitter to be unheared.

Caesar wants to grin, I can tell by the flicker in the corners of his mouth but he keeps his lips straight for the great of good. The interviewer then goes on to speak about Cassandra and Alden, mainly focusing on the relationship I had with them individually and as a unit. It was a surprisingly upbeat conversation as I sprinkle the audience with hilarious stories about my allies. However Caesar wanted me to focus on how I felt individually towards them, therefore I begin to speak about how Alden was funny, charming and incredibly cleaver, revealing that he taught me to wield an axe. It was a little harder to talk about Cassandra due to the unfortunate incident that accrued before her death but I spoke only the good: teaching her to throw knives, the conversations but mainly how she strangely reminded me of my sister, Maria but Caesar couldn't wait until I'd finished before interrupting.

"How was your relationship like with your district partner, Garrett Larkin?" Caesar asks whilst moving his left leg up to rest his ankle on his right knee, resting his hand on the knee and the other gripping the arm of the chair so he can decline his body in a comfortable manor. At least he is comfortable which is more than can be said for me who has never sat so straight in my entire life.

"Garrett Larkin was like my protector in the Games. Whenever I found myself in a situation, he always seemed to be there to help me," I say, for some reason the tears bubble, my voice goes shallow and broken because then I realise how true it was. Garrett protected me from the Careers and from Cassandra nearly slitting my throat. "And it hurts me, knowing that I couldn't return the favour in saving him before the mutations got him." I finish, the audience has been silenced by my small sobs and I notice some even sharing in my tears with silk tissues. Slightly enraged by this because they have no right to cry, technically, I have no right to speak as if me and Garrett were best friend because we weren't but he meant something to me now.

"So it's safe to say, this years tributes from District 4 were close?" Caesar asks. Are you kidding me? Was he even listening to me for the last five minutes?

I sigh heavily before nodding, "Relatively." I reply.

The audience all awh's as Caesar pats me knee with affection which makes me feel awkward and just as he stands up to announces what I do believe is President Snow, the strangely dressed man surprises me when the screen behind us flickers on, to reveal the ending to the Hunger Games. Featuring just me and Cato, the begging and the crying almost seems childish now but then it seemed necessary, thinking my cries could bring him back like some mystical power but I knew it wasn't possible. Once the cannon sounds, the clip finishes and the entire nations attention is placed back on me whose facial expression matches though of a blank slated child.

"Secret star-crossed lovers." Caesar whispers to himself but because we are microphone up, a whispers is like normal speech. I cannot help but allow a small smile creep to my face, secret district-crossed lovers would be more actuate.

Clutching the rose tighter like it was the one Cato had given me before the game. "Cato Ludwig was the love of my life." I reveal because there wasn't any point in hiding it knowing it was going to be leaked anyway, either that or Caesar was going to ask anyway, plus I feel his family should have an explanation for how I acted before he died. The audience awh's with sympathy before clapping and cheering making the ground.

Caesar leans forward and brushes his fingers against my collarbone, but then I realise he is taking a hold of the silver chain with his thumb and first finger before pulling it from the top of my dress removing the spearhead trinket. "Was that his?" he asked me, I nod with no verbal response, a member of the crowd gasps almost like it's a shock I am telling the truth. For a split-second, Caesar and I make eye contact, "Well, I'm sorry." he tells me before releasing the chain allowing the silver spearhead to be visible. I simply smile at him.

The anthem's playing yet again, the atmosphere has changed dramatically from quiet to eardrum bursting. Caesar Flickerman jumps up from his seat with such gusto it's frightening. For some reason I assume the interview is over and I'm free to leave, but as I stand to my feet wobbly and step off to the side, Caesar grips my arm gentle, lacing his hand around mine before pulling me back to stand next to him, our shoulders touching.

"Now don't you go anywhere Miss Hollern," Caesar Flickerman grins, "I do believe there is one last thing we must add to your spectacular outfit this evening... and it'll be present by a very special guest. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our very own president – Coriolanus Snow."

I stiffen as President Snow takes the stage, the crowd gets to their feet, throwing white roses and cheering louder than ever before. The president was followed by a pretty little girl whose hair was plated and pinned in place wearing a snow white dress with frilly socks and shiny shoes, she carries a red velvet pillow that holds the golden victors crown. President Snow places the beautifully crafted crown on my head, the cold metal presses against the skin of my forehead several centimetres from my eyebrows. He smiles happily at me when he settles the crown before removing his gloved hands but his eyes, just centimetres from mine, are as unforgiving as a snake's.

"Congratulations Miss Hollern," President Snow says to me, the crowd cheers agreeing with the president's congratulations, I smile not really with happiness and the president must have registered this because he suddenly turns to face the audience, President Snow makes sure the audience is quiet before speaking, he gestures me forwards so I can stand beside him, completely level.

"This young lady fought hard during the Games, witnessed friends and loved ones die," President Snow says calmly putting a gentle hand on my upper arm, what's going on? He is actually being nice? "And I personally would like to congratulation her on the news of her pregnancy." he then says suddenly reaching down to patt my stomach. My chest feels like it's been hit with a brick as it contracts at his words, of course, President Snow isn't a nice man and this was only part of his revenge for my refusal and challenging the Gamemakers.

"Baby!" a woman squeals from the crowd as the entire rooms erupted in shouts and begs gathering to their feet. Caesar Flickerman's eyes have widened like this was the worst possible thing that could happen during the interview because apparently the slaughter of twenty-three children wasn't exciting enough but a pregnant sixteen year old was top notch entertainment for these people.

"What baby!" a man screams from the front row.

The President smiles sickly to me before waving his goodbyes to the Capitol and then disappearing but not before giving me one last glance, the hate that heats my body from his eyes is scolding but I have a feeling it isn't the worst to come. Now the entire nation knows of my pregnancy, they'll connect the dots and figure everything out.

Suddenly, I am waving frantically to the audience, ignoring the shouts for information about the unborn child. My arm is about to fall off from waving when Caesar Flickerman finally bids the audience goodnight, reminding them to tune in tomorrow for the final interviews – as if they had the choice. In that hour interview, all the hairy details will be let out. I wasn't even aware I had to do another interview tomorrow, I was kind of hoping that would be it.

I am whisked off to the president's mansion for the Victory Banquet where I have very little time to eat as the Capitol officials and particularly generous sponsors elbow one another out of the way as they attempt to get their picture with me. Faces after beaming face flashes by become increasingly intoxicated as the evening wears on. Occasionally, I catch a glimpse of Michael or Finnick which puts me at easy until I see President Snow which is terrifying but I keep on smiling, laughing and thanking people making sure to try my hardest to grin in their photo's taken with me.

Thankfully, as the sun is just peeking over the horizon when we stagger back to the fourth floor of the Training Centre. Michael is heavily drunk but that is expected so he is put straight to bed by Finnick, praying that my brothers drunken ways would allow me to have a private word with Finnick before I dive into bed but Vibia personally escorts me to my room to get something fitted for the interview tomorrow.

"I need to speak with Finnick." I tell her as I hang back at the edge of the living room beside the window, peeking round the corner of the corridor to see when my mentor returns from tucking away my brother like a five-year-old.

Vibia tugs on my arm lightly edging me away from the window, "Plenty of time for talk when we get you on the train." she says.

Sighing and seeing no reason to fight her, not to mention my energy levels have hit rock bottom. I follow her down the familiar corridor to the bedroom, the vacant bedroom opposite mine is eerie but almost feelings like my departed district partner is still in there sleeping, pacing, exercising or whatever he used to do for hours inside his bedroom. But knowing I've heard his cannon and seen him dead, I know that behind the wooden door is just an empty bedroom. The lights turned off, the curtain drawn with the bed neatly made. Vibia taps me on the shoulder because then I realise I've been staring at the wooden privacy keeper, I turn and follow her into my chambers before being made to stand wearing a plain silk shirt as she pins and sews a jacket into the perfect fit around my body, making sure she leaves enough space for the padding. There is no speaking between us because we have nothing to talk about before the Games all we would talk about is being noticed by the Capitol crowd, making sure I stand out and remembered for the time in the arena so the sponsors help keep me alive but now all I want to do is vanish into thin air. However I can tell the curiosity is eating away at her as I catch her peering at my stomach, I can tell she has questions but the answers can wait because I have a gut feeling Caesar Flickerman will be questioning me strongly about the rather unpredictable events allowing the Capitol to eat up this story like a dog eating hot chips. Fuck President Snow for being that up on stage, he has no right this is my own private business but everyone bloody knows now, all across Panem. My family, friends, anyone who knows me but worst of all, Cato's family, friends, anyone who knows bloody him now knows, his name could become mud because of me, the District 2 tributes are lethal, deadly and willing to do anything to survive, emotions but never come into it. Maybe Cato was told to volunteer this year by his trainers, he was eighteen it was he last chance and a clear victor to them. But now the story takes a turn.

Half an hour later, I can feel my eyelids getting increasingly heavier and soon it's too much weight to bare. Vibia finishes quickly before stripping me of my jacket before tucking me in bed like the Avox boy had before. I wonder where he is, I sincerely hope he is okay and well. I toss and turn making a mess of the neatly arranged sheets but sleeping doesn't seem to come, nightmares riddle me and it becomes unbearable to try and so I turn on the bedside lamp before turning over to the light, then I see it. Beautiful sliver craftsmanship with a easy to grip handle and a medium sized blade. Cato's sword, they actually brought it to my room, they let me keep it. I slip out of bed, being careful not to fall on my wobbly limbs, scooping up the weapon in my arms and sit back on the edge of my bed with the weapon between my knees, the tip digging into the carpet of the bedroom floor with my fingers gripped around the handle. And in the safety of my room, I cry.

After what seemed like a lifetime of crying, my body finally gave in to the tiredness that gripped me. The nightmares still attack me but they seem to keep at a low terrifying rate allowing me to snag several uncomfortable hours of sleep but I'm scared I'll see them all again, blood covered, dying and rotting and despite several shocking awakenings, I force myself to keep inside the bed, tucked up warm bring my knees to my chest with my arms wrapped around them to keep me in the perfect cocoon position, safe and warm but I know I'm far from it now. I'm terrified, no longer innocent or fragile but a murderer.

**A/N: Anastasia's Capitol Interview and Crowning is over. How did you feel about President Snow deliberately letting it slip about the pregnancy? I guess tomorrow in her final interview, the Capitol will get all the inside information. Review you ladies and lads!**


	49. Chapter 49: Final Capitol Interview

Chapter Forty-nine.

**Final Capitol Interview with Caesar Flickerman.**

In the morning, just like before, Dieter Rollo bursts into my bedroom without knocking. His all happy and spread out like a butterfly alerting me to the start of another "big, big, big day!" – I have five minute to eat a bowl of hot grain and stew before my prep-team descends upon me. All I have to do is compliment them on how much the audience loved them and it's unnecessary to speak for the next couple of hours before Vibia comes in and shoos them out so she can dress me in a one piece dress that appears as if it's two, a black fabric shirt that's padded to give me pump curves and falls to my knees. The top sewed to the skirt is plush pink and short sleeved decorated with pink feathers and black shoes with a golden buckle and the I fight against her when she attempts to remove Cato's chain from round my neck and she loses, in fact, she flinches when I raise my arm to grip the chain. Vibia then adjusts my make-up until I seem to radiate a soft, rosy glow. We make idle chit-chat to pass the time but it's nothing interesting, mainly about the interview, when and where it is but mainly what I think it's going to be about.

The interview takes place right down the hall in the sitting room of the District 4 apartment. The entire living room has been cleaned spotless, the cushions have been rearranged on the freshly cleaned sofa. In various spots over the sitting room rests vases of roses in unique colours: blue roses with pinks tips, green with purple tips whilst others are ghastly familiar, yellow with red tips. No two vases a like. When I enter the living room I see there are only a handful of camera's to record the event. I have never been so revealed to see no live audience.

Caesar Flickerman is getting his make-up done but hops up from his seat to give me a warm hug and another peck on the lips. It doesn't bother me really because I know he means well. "Congratulations, Anastasia. How are you feeling?" he asks, resting a gentle hand on my stomach. He almost looks disappointed when nothing happens.

"Fine. Nervous about the interview." I say truthfully.

"Don't be. We're going to have a fabulous time." he says, removing his hand from my stomach to give me a reassuring pat on my cheek.

Looking down at my feet, "I'm not good at talking about myself." I reveal like it's a secret. I think Caesar knows by now that socially awkward doesn't even begin to cover me. Socially awkward, unable to cope in large crowds and would much rather be inside than outside unless it's on a boat or swimming.

Caesar lets out a muffled laugh, "Don't worry, we won't be speaking much about you but something a little more... special." he winks mischievously before flicking his eyes to my stomach and then strutting back to the make-up chair.

_I'm going to be sick, _I think before walking as quickly as I can without running out onto the balcony to hang my head over the edge. My stomach wrenches as it empties the content of my breakfast onto the stone pavement of the Capitol street below. Suddenly, a soft hand is rubbing my back in a comforting fashion, turning to see a well dressed male body before me. Looking up too see the males face, I am greeted by a hungover Michael Hollern.

"Get it all up." he coos continuing to rub my back until I've thrown up everything my body wishes to rid my of, unfortunately I cannot throw up my guilt. I turn my gaze to over the glistening city. "I remember this day, and this balcony, I was on it myself three years ago." Michael points out.

"What did you speak about in your final interview?" I ask.

"Don't you remember?" he asks, causing my to turn around and look at him but he was still staring off into the distance. As his eyes peek out of the corner of his eye, I shake my head knowing he can see me. My brother sighs, "I spoke about Maria because Caesar asked and then I spoke about you because you kept me calm, knowing you were safe for another year."

I let out something muffled, I think it was a chuckle but I cannot be sure. "Caesar already knows what the main focus of the interview is going to be." I say bluntly.

"Want some advice?" Michael asks.

I nod, "That's sort of why I brought up the subject." As I stand up straight, Michael wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him as we gaze across the city unknowing if we are being watched or listened too.

"Tell them everything." he tells me simply.

Raising my eyebrow, I turn away from the city view to look up at my elder brother, "Everything?" I ask.

Michael nods, "Yes, how it happened, your relationship with Cato and what you intend to do, these things will make the Capitol love you, be incised by you. Therefore President Snow will not be able to jab you with a ten-foot barge pole with upset in the Capitol and the districts."

_All the private stuff, _I think, _everything I wanted to keep secret released to the country. _As I stand and think about the details I am going to reveal making sure to keep the most important and heartfelt memories locked away, only for me. Things I will tell our child when he, or she, grows up and asks where their father is, I can tell them, show them the tapes making sure they know he was a good man beneath the Career make-up. And by telling the truth, the entire truth will belittle President Snow and Seneca Crane, even District's 1 and 2, the only districts that are closest to the Capitol will turn, knowing that a child has lost it's father, even they aren't completely heartless.

"Miss Hollern!" a voice calls from inside the living room, both Michael and I turn sharply to see a pink haired man with a tattooed neck, he must be the cameraman because he has a slim headset on and beckons me back into the sitting room with urgency, "We're ready for you."

I feet a sort of shiver run through me as there's no time to analyse exactly what I am to say because I know they're ready for me. I make sure I sit somewhat formally on the sofa but Caesar chuckles at me before insisting I sat in a manor that was comforting to me. Dieter gasps in disgust as I kick off my shoes and tuck up my feet to the side almost curling up to the cushions neatly arranged. I give Caesar a large grin to tell him I am ready.

Someone counts backwards from ten and just like that, I am being broadcast live to the entire country. Caesar Flickerman is wonderfully kind as he introduces us and makes a few jokes before turning to me with a smile that projects pure happiness and longing for this interview and the information that will follow.

"Now, Anastasia, is it safe to ask that you are truly well?" Caesar asks before adding with a wink, "Both of you." then gesturing to my stomach. Joining in with Caesar's laughter I manage to mask me swallowing back the vomit that slithered up my throat and I nod with a smile.

"Yes, we are both well." I reply.

"Good," Mr Flickerman says with a nod, "Well, Ana, we know from Cato's last moments that it must have been love at first sight but did it begin the first time you saw him? So what, the reaping video on the train to the Capitol?" he questions me, it was well structured and told me without really saying, exactly what he wanted from me. I let out a muffled chuckle before shaking my head, Caesar's eyes looked confused and after a second his face followed, "It wasn't love at first sight?"

I shake my head, answering, "No. I really disliked him when I first saw his reaping video, I thought he was too bloodthirsty and confident for his own good. It wasn't until after the Tribute Parade that I realised something brewing inside me for him."

"The dazzling looking outfits did it for you, huh?" Caesar gives me a wink.

Chuckling I simply nod, "I guess you could say that. Cato made me feel like no-one ever had before, he made me laugh and was honest with me, the Games were everything he had ever thought about, I don't think even he expected to fall in love especially not here." I tell him.

"Love?"

I nod with a warm smile, a real smile. "Yes, love. During the Games I tried not to think about my feelings, or him for that matter, honestly, because I was confused and it only made things worse if I actually cared about him but when I saw him, knowing we where the last two, I would rather of died than kill him myself, that's when I knew. Right there, that nothing in this world could make me feel the way he did. Despite only have a little time together, they will be the best days of my entire life." I finish off, proud and strong, making it clear that there was in fact feeling between us, not some last-of-the-minute-fuck between tributes.

Behind the cameraman, I see Michael smile and hold up his hand in the A-OK position – the tip of his thumb and first finger touch creating a circle with the left over fingers separated and upwards – angled opposite, Caesar Flickerman removes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and has to take a minute because he's so moved. Personally I thought my little speech was terrible. Lies, lies bundled inside more lies but if Caesar Flickerman managed to buy it, I know the half-dead citizens of Panem sure did but President Snow and the rest of the districts might be a little more difficult to persuade, even though it's the truth.

Thankfully, Caesar takes his natural place to serge into all the ways I got hurt inside the arena, from the punches, the birds, Iris's knife and the injuries sustained during her death battle. We talk a little about my kills, all four of them which is seen as pretty poor in the Capitol. I explain how my first kill, the female from District 11 was simply a spur of the moment to save Waylon. My second kill of the Games was mercy killing, seem as pathetic in the eyes of the Gamemakers. Cedric's death was meaningless, I didn't want him getting away to inform the other Career's where we were but Iris's was heartfelt and willed with revenge for every evil look she gave me and snide comment for made to me or the other tributes. However Iris Castillo was only fifteen, despite that only being a year younger than I, she was still a child.

I cannot help the small tears that line my eyes speaking about the murderers I have committed. Looking down at my hands, I see them splashed with bed blood, it's seeped into my pores like the branches of a tree. My mouth has gone dry and my throat closes. Caesar asks me if I'm okay as I've been silent for several minutes on live television for all the nation to see me choke. Michael's face behind the cameraman coax me back from my frozen state to look back up at the interviewer discretely rubbing my hands on my black skirt.

"Anastasia, I know you've been through a lot, but I have to ask. The moment the doctors revealed you were expecting, what was going through your mind... hm?" Caesar asks, his voice soft as silk which runs over me like a protective blanket, filled with niceness. Of course he had to ask this, surely he knows the answer, termination of his pregnancy is not permitted – orders of President Snow – if the district saw me as unwilling to be a mother, and/or unfit to take the parental position they would take her away from me and place her in the community home. I've seen those home children at school, glassy eyes with hopelessness that curled their shoulders forwards, even some with marks of angry hands on their faces, I could never let that happen to any child. So the only logical explanation is for me to go through with is.

I take a long pause before I answer, trying to collect my thoughts. "I was scared but I had no reason to be, back at home I have the best support group possible standing beside me: my brother Michael, my amazing mentor Finnick along with my best friend, Annie and Mags. I just wish Cato was here to see our beautiful baby develop." I say, tears glistening on my cheeks. _Does anyone believe this shit? _I think but then I hear a sniffed sob from behind me, no doubt it's Dieter. Caesar Flickerman smiles sadly at me, he then leans forwards to take my hand in his, the coldness of a ring he wears tingles my skin.

"Michael? Finnick? Anything to add?" asks Caesar, the camera to my right swivels round to capture an image of my brother and my mentor who are stood, dressed and smiling like they've been waiting for one of the camera's to give them attention. But I cannot relax, there are other camera's focused on me knowing that the screens at home will be split, half with the boys and half with me.

Michael shakes his head but Finnick cannot hold himself back from being in the lime-light a little. "She was a pleasure to mentor and she will make a brilliant mum." he says sweetly, wholesomely but most importantly, he says it convincingly.

Caesar signs off and it's over. Coren, Shazza and Dieter are crying, Vibia smiles sadly however hasn't bought the bullshit but to keep in with the team spirit, she hugs Tiberius tightly. Michael and Finnick simply smile, holding back the laughter, I don't blame them, it felt unnatural being so polite and loved-up but I'm still not sure if I have done a convincing job until I reach Michael for a hug, "Okay?" I whisper.

"Perfect." he answers.

Saying my final goodbyes to Caesar is easier than expected. He simply wishes me luck, hugs me and kisses my forehead gentle before disappearing. I go back to my room to collect a few things, mainly the sword and the rose Cato had given me the night before the Games. They drive the entire District 4 team through the street in a car with blacked out windows, and the train is waiting for us. I barely have time to say goodbye to Vibia, Coren and Shazza although I'll see them in six months when we tour the districts for a round of victory ceremonies. It's the Capitol's way of reminding people that the Hunger Games never really go away, plus I will be much larger then, just over six months pregnant. I'll be given a lot of useless plaques and everyone will have to pretend they love me. Which they do not.

The train begins to move and we're plunged into the night until we clear the tunnel and I take my first free breath since the reaping but I know I'm not safe yet, we're not safe yet. In District 4 I can melt away into a secret state of existence but even then, I am not completely protected. For President Snow, I'm a target in need of being made example of.

* * *

**A/N: What do you guys think? Review!**

**P.S: I'm thinking of continuing on with Anastasia's story into another fan-fiction so just like the original series, obviously like this one things will be muddled up and different scenarios but what I really want to know is, would you read it if I did? Review!  
**


	50. Chapter 50: I'm Coming Home

Chapter Fifty.

**The Train Journey Home.**

We eat an enormous dinner and settled into silence in front of the television to watch a reply of the interview, everyone but me has a glass of wine clutched firmly in their hand. Dieter is accompanying us back to District 4 with Michael and Finnick, too, of course. With the Capitol growing further and further away every second, I begin to think more of home. Of Leila and Annie, getting silent hugs from Mags. I excuse myself from the sitting area not wanted to watch myself on the screen, my chambers haven't been relocated and are pretty much the same as before. Stripping away my dress and put on a plain shirt with baggy trousers, I begin to transform back to myself. Anastasia Hollern. A girl who lives in Victor's Village. Works on the fishing boats and only has one friend that isn't a victor. As I stare at myself in the mirror I try to remember who I am and who I am not – I am not a princess, I am not a Capitol gem and I most certainly am a tool they can use to broadcast as propaganda.

When I became myself again, I think about rejoining the others or whether I'm going to stay inside my bedroom. I decide to stay locked away because it's not worth going into the sitting carriage to listen to Michael, Finnick and Dieter chatter away about the Games, the arena, the interview and the Capitol's reaction to me. Non of which I ever felt interested by then, even less so now.

The silk bedsheets were twice as inviting as before so as I slip between the covers, my body automatically goes ridged due to the unbelievable comfort. For the two weeks in the arena, I've been huddled on stone ground using rocks for pillows like a caveman but now I'm here, it's like laying on a marshmallow. I think I'm going to sink to the floor, curling up I hear heavy footsteps approaching my bedroom but I didn't think anything of it because it could be Michael or Finnick heading towards their bedrooms which aren't far from mine. I turned to look at the sword leant up against the dress, in the same exact position I had set it in when I returned to the train. And suddenly, a pale skinned hand takes a hold of the weapon's handle. Sitting up, too quickly for my own good. My mouth opens in complete astonishment as there he stood, exactly the way I remembered, clothed in his reaping clothing, a button-up shirt and ironed trousers, Cato Ludwig.

"I'm glad you kept him safe." the boy laughed.

"Cato?!" I gawked, "I'm dreaming, aren't I? Did any of it really happen?"

Picking up the sword and examining carefully. Cato cleans the edge of his weapon using his shirt. "Did what really happen?" he asks. Slipping my legs round the side of the bed so they hang off the edge, I still cling to the silk cover as I watch a dead man, walk and talk around my bedroom like he is still alive.

"Of course the Games happened." the young man chuckles, "I remember fighting, blood, screams. And oh, kissing." he winks. If this Cato was an illusion created by my mind, he was doing a good damn job at seeming real. So much so, I pinch my arms and legs and I even go as far as punching my thighs, allowing the pain to radiate through me but a steady awareness keeps playing, I do not wake up.

"Why are you hurting yourself?" Cato asked with concern, tilting his head like he's looking at a wounded animal. I wipe away the warm tears that make my vision blurry. The sword is replaced against the dresser and Cato drops to his knees before me, cupping my face in his large hands. "I know that my jokes are bad but I didn't think they were so bad that you need to resort to self-harm." In Cato's voice, there's a hint of humour that I've never really heard before.

I couldn't stopped the muffled laughter that I projected. "They are worse than bad."

"Being funny was never a strong point for me." Cato gruffed.

Getting to my feet, I knock Cato backwards but the Career keeps his balance perfectly and remains crouched. I move round the bed to stand a foot-or-so from the edge opposite the door. "You're supposed to be dead! Why are you here? Actually, more importantly, _how_ are you here?" my voice has risen but not into a shout, only mildly louder than speaking normally.

"Seneca Crane brought me back – said he enjoyed the idea of us being a family." Cato says simply.

My face softens a little, "How did they bring you back?" I ask. "You were dead."

Cato laughs, "Remember it's the Capitol, these people create mutts from thin air. To them, using the technology provided to bring back someone that's been dead, it a piece of piss. Easy work and money." he explains.

"But, there can only be one victor." I argue.

He shrugs, "Technically, yes. Anastasia you did win the Games. Therefore when we pass District 2, I get dropped off and on the beginning day of the Victor's Tour, they'll pick me up on there way to you. See, we'll still go to District 2 in order since, I'm actually not a victor; I'm just a survivor."

"You're going be on my Victor's Tour?" I ask with relief, Cato nods with a grin and before I can register my actions, my body has already flung itself into the boys arms. Cato mumbles a yes into my shoulder and then, in that moment I have never felt so happy. My heart fluttered whilst my body felt weightless as I am tangled in his arms. "I can't believe you're going to be on the Victor's Tour with me!" I squeal like a small child into his chest before tiptoeing to plant a gentle kiss on his lips, the gentleness of the gesture shocked me but I suppose I am afraid I'll hurt him because I still see him as injured.

"It's going to be great." he whispers before kissing me again, turning his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue shimmies across my bottom lip begging for entrance but I deny him that and pull away from him but Cato holds me tightly, nuzzling at my neck viciously nipping at the skin with his teeth. I manage to nudge my head enough to draw his forehead to mine whilst whispering no. Cato sighed heavily, "Come on, Anastasia." he pleads.

"We're almost at District 2." I tell him but Cato doesn't care.

The boy around me shrugs, leaning in closer to kiss me again, and again. "We still have some time." he whispers seductively. My heart knocks against my chest as he leans in to kiss me. His touch is hungry, almost angry as he slips his finger tips up my shirt to touch the skin of my caved in torso above the waistband of my trousers, I shiver. Moving my head to the side, I thought he was going to stop but I seem to have just given him assess to my neck where he kisses and nips.

"Stop," I say gently pushing his hands away from beneath my shirt but he keeps on kissing my throat leading down to my collarbone. "No, Cato," I say pushing him away forcefully but the Career Tribute grips me tightly and throws me from my place onto the plush bed behind him before mounting on top of me. "Ow, Cato, no stop!" I hiss as I wiggle like a fish out of water trying to throw him off but he simply pins my arms beside my head using his own weight to keep my torso to the bed. "Cato!" I yell with anger but he isn't listening anymore. His hungry lips go for my throat beginning to actually puncture the skin. Clutching my eyes close I thrash, kick, flop and wiggle, anything to get this thing off of me. This isn't Cato. "Ah!" I scream in pain as a gentle warmth trickles down my throat.

And when I look up at the man on top of me, Cato isn't the image that greets me, well, it is Cato Ludwig but mixed in with the Capitol's mutations. His eyes were no longer crystal clear blue but lime green and glowing in the shallow light. When he smiles, I see sharp daggers with black drool covering the surface of his teeth and rimming his lips. "Are you afraid?" the mutation asks as it snarls dropping black droplets onto my face. To respond to the mutations question, I scream in hot red terror.

"Anastasia!" a familiar masculine voice screams through the horror. Suddenly, I am shocked with a strong shaking sensation. My eyes rip open to reveal emptiness, no sign of any danger. No one except Finnick clutching my shoulders with his large hands as I burst into tears without any worries about what my previous mentor thinks. Like my first nightmare in the Capitol, Finnick Odair is nothing but a object of comfort but instead of staying on top of the covers, he slips into the bed beside me and wraps me up in his arms. My head rests on the section of his chest over his heart and as I cried, I listened to the steady beat of another human being's living heart. Focusing on the slow and regular beats, I managed to calm down whilst taking deep breaths.

I shrug Finnick off but he keeps a firm hold on me. "Have I gone crazy?" I ask him, truthfully I feel I have, the visions of dead people, the nightmares containing my experiences inside the arena. Am I like Annie? Insane?

"No, you're not crazy. You're a Hunger Games victor." Finnick replies honestly. "There are less than fifty people in the whole of Panem who know how you feel. Who know what you went through and had been forced to do in those two weeks." my mentor pauses for a breather, "It's a small number but just remember you're not alone and just remember that four of those fifty individuals live in a small village with you." he reminds me.

Sighing, I rub Finnick's forearm that was wrapped around my middle, "Is being a victor really this depressing?" I ask, rather disappointed.

Finnick sighs planting a gentle kiss on the crown of my head before rubbing my head reassuringly. "I wish I could say no, certainly not as glittery and glamorous as the Capitol makes out is it?" Finnick chuckles lightly.

I shake my head, "No, but you're not helping." I joke.

"Otherwise, yes it is this depressing," Finnick tells me, "But do you want my advice?" Nodding, I angle my head to look up at my mentor. "Try make the most of it. Buy jewels –"

"– I don't like jewels." I interrupt.

Finnick chuckles, "All right, Miss Boring, how about you try get some sleep and tomorrow we can discus what you can spend your new found victor's money on."

I am terrified to close my eyes but with Finnick agreeing to stay with me until I have fallen asleep, I feel slightly more at ease knowing that if a nightmare did grip me. Finnick is there to pull me back to reality and safety. I thank him for his help and as I close my eyes, a feeling of warmth slides over me like a blanket, my body relaxes into the marshmallow mattress and soon the heaviness of today's events have melted away and the darkness invites me to a nice and calm slumber.

* * *

**A/N: All aboard the crazy train, looks like the Games have made an impact on Anastasia and is Finnick getting a little too close for comfort? Review and tell me what you think about Finnick's ways of comforting his tribute and Anastasia's mental state, could this be the extend of the craziness or is this simply the tip of the iceberg? Review, by the way, I've decided to continue Anastasia's story on into another fan-fiction when this one is over with :) **


	51. Chapter 51: Unpredictable Actions

Chapter Fifty-One.

**Unpredictable Actions.**

Awakening with a startle, I am alone. No Finnick Odair invading my personal space but most importantly, no Capitol mutation disguised as a passed loved one trying to grope and rape me, so that's already a plus on this morning's schedule. The second plus of the morning came when I realised I had awoken an entire thirty seconds before Dieter Rollo trotted in for his usual 'wake-up duty' only to be shocked by my zombie-like appearance. Of course he was already suited up in velvet and leather with perfectly on-point hair and make-up but still, despite me being awake, Dieter found some way to use the energy he had preserved for this moment of the day. "Let's get you up and ready," my young escort coaxes me from the comfort of my bed. I cannot help but smile at the man's happiness and genuine wanting to help me. As I showered, Dieter picked out an outfit from the draws inside the bedroom. Rinsing my body of Capitol smelling soap, I hear Dieter call through asking me what is my favourite colour to which I replied, "Blue." then I heard nothing more.

Exiting the shower once I have finished making sure to turn off the electric bathroom gadget before entering the bedroom with a towel wrapped underneath my arms to hide my damp, naked body. I notice Dieter has laid out a selection of outfits to then I wonder how long I was inside the shower for because it looked as if he had spent some time putting these simply yet elegant outfits together. He also had made my bed for me. His warm, dry hand grips the wet skin which was my upper arm and placed me at the end of the bed so I could study the outfits myself close up. From left to right there was a silk button-up shirt with a gentler shade of blue trousers, the next outfit is a blue velvet dress with long sleeves and the final outfit is a pair of skin tight trousers with a plain blue shirt with mid-length sleeves but unlike the others, the t-shirt looks baggy meaning it wouldn't stick to whatever curves I had left.

It doesn't take me very long to decide which one I wanted to wear, "The end one." I tell Dieter who smiles before gathering all the other outfits up and allows me to dress in privacy whilst he searches for a pair of shoes inside the small walk-in wardrobe. Once I have finished drying and clothing myself, Dieter exits the enclosed room and hands me a pair of flat, open top leather shoes and the outfit is complete. Well, except from my hair and blotchy face which Dieter insisted he helped me fix. Reluctantly, I agreed and sat down on the end of the bed allowing Dieter to collect a handful of make-up utensils. Being unused to anyone else doing my make-up but Vibia causes me to flinch as Dieter lines my eyes with a gentle brown pencil, afraid that he'll accidentally poke me in the eye.

"Did you move this much for Vibia?" Dieter asks warming my face with his muffled breath.

Smiling, I shake my head, "Sorry, the whole make-up thing is still new to me." I reply trying to defuse the small amount of awkwardness portrayed in his voice which was muffled by his laughter. Dieter soon finishes the eye make-up before brushing a thin layer of what I suspect is foundation before he focuses his attention on my hair which he simply brushes through before pinning the fringe back. Then, Dieter reveals my appearance to me and I have to say, I'm rather shocked by the gentle image reflected back to me by the mirror. My sea green eyes have been gently highlighted with brown, my skin brushed with a layer of help to cover the faint scars and my hair has been drawn away to show what little natural beauty I have.

Standing up, without thinking I latch myself around the young escorts. "Thank you, Dieter." I whisper into his ear which happens to be beside my lips.

Dieter clearly isn't used to such personal bodily contact and he shrugs me off gently, "Come on, let's get you come breakfast." he orders jokingly swivelling me around before kneeing me towards the bedroom door.

**xxx**

Freshly cooked buns still steaming hot with sickly smelling food such as bacon, hash browns, golden cooked toast with a wide variety of soups, stews, broths and cereals and to wash it down was tea, coffee and hot chocolate. I sat on the end of the table closest to the entrance/exit door of the carriage way to reveal Michael sitting to the right of me, he had already started eating his breakfast with a range of food on his china plate, Finnick was nowhere to be seen. Dieter sits on the chair the other end of the table, opposite me and we tuck into our breakfast.

I started my breakfast with a steaming bowl of porridge which I decorate the top with sugar, washing it down with cup of nice tea without sweetening. Dieter eats slowly, savouring the food as it slides down his throat to fill his stomach where as I simply swallow without much thought for whatever diet the Capitol doctors tried to drill into me. I am starving and no amount of Capitol orders will stop me from eating what and how much I want. They cannot control me now and they never will again.

Breakfast is silent filled by the noises of knives, forks and spoons scraping and hitting against the china bowls and plates. After fifteen minutes of it simply being the three of us in silence, the electric door slid open from behind me, causing all of our attentions to be refocused on the figure stood in the doorway. It was Finnick Odair but he was almost unrecognisable with blotchy skin and dark circles surrounding his eyes, the golden waves of his hair appeared to have been licked by a cow as it stands on end and even by my standards of 'well-dressed', Mr Odair wasn't.

"You're not seriously thinking about arriving in District 4 looking like that are you?" Dieter gasps placing down his tea cup onto the saucer before putting the china set down onto the clothed table top. Holding back my laughter, I watch Finnick raise an eyebrow in bewilderment as he doesn't understand why Dieter would question him on his appearance and fashion choice, he's the gem of the Capitol. Our escort hums whilst shaking his head, "No, no, no." Dieter stands up, "Let's get you suitably dressed." My escort walks around the long table to shove my ex-mentor out of the carriage door back towards his bedroom leaving me and Michael alone.

From across the small gap, our eyes meet but there's an awkward aura about the connection and it's unnatural. Is this what me being a victor is going to do to us? Make us suddenly opposites, feeling that we couldn't speak but as my brother raises an challenging eyebrow before pulling out a deck of cards, I know that it's the little things that will keep us close.

"You're on." I chuckle stacking away my plate to my left on the empty space as Michael muddles up the cards before dishing me out twelve cards. Four to place face down, four to place face up and four to hold in my hand. Michael copies my set up. "Lowest number?" I ask.

"Eight." my brother replies.

I chuckle placing down the seven of spades before picking up another card to replace the I'd lost which happens to be a four of diamonds. The game involves placing a card higher than your opponent, if you cannot beat your opponent's card you must take the pile. An ace is the highest someone can place. "So how are you feeling?" I ask.

Michael shrugs as he scans the cards in his hand before placing down a nine of hearts on top of my seven of spades and picking up another card. "I'm fine, personally I am more interested in how you feel at the moment." he replies continuing to play the protective elder brother role, which makes me bubble with happiness.

Scoffing, I place down a jack of hearts and pick up an ace, "I'm fine," I reply gentle but Michael raises an eyebrow at me as if to say, _really? _I nod, "I will be fine, eventually," I assure him but then I realise that I'm not alone and so I correct myself, again. "We'll be fine." I tell him.

Michael chuckles, placing down a king of diamonds, "When we're back in District 4 we need to book you scheduled doctors appointments." he tells me, I nod because it most defiantly is true however I find it far to hard too believe the Capitol doctors haven't already been in contact with hospital back home. Once I've put my ace down, Michael is forced to collect the pile of cards from the table top.

"You looking forward to moving into Victor's Village?" Michael asks.

Smiling, I cannot help but nod because I suppose that is something nice look forward too. Large house with a safe-ish neighbourhood to raise a child in. "I just wish Maria was here, she could have moved in." I say sadly.

"I know, sweetie." Michael says leaning over to touch my arm but I've already began to cry. "It's okay." he tells me.

"No it's not!" I suddenly explode, "Fuck Iris Castillo!" I scream at the top of my lungs slamming my fists onto the strong table top sending my cards flying into the air like confetti. "I'm going to fucking kill her!" I scream suddenly standing up ready to throw a plates, flowers and chairs around the carriage but Michael seizes my left arm tightly and catches my right when it balls up in a fist shattering a plate beneath the momentum. I know Michael is aware of the trauma that grips my body but truthfully I am unaware of where this sudden burst of anger has come from.

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HER!" I bellow trying to wrench myself from my brothers grip who can see my body is about to have another fit of rage and throws me from my stood position to the floor where he sits on the top of my abdomen dropping most of his weight onto my body, pinning my arms to my sides using his knees. Panic struck Michael's eyes as he begin to wonder if anyone can hear us and his logical explanation to avoid creating a sense was to smother my face in a red silk cushion as another belt of screams came from my body but this time it wasn't about Iris, it was about the others. Cassandra, Alden, Waylon and Cato, their names dripped off my tongue like acid.

Then, suddenly I couldn't breath, it was almost like my entire body had given in and stopped me from breathing, I began to wiggle and fidget screaming not from anger but panic because as Michael refused to get off me, I felt increasingly more how Waylon must have felt when I killed him in the Games. Slowly being suffocated without being able to stop it. In the blackness of the cushion I could feel myself wondering further away from my body but soon the light invaded before it was too late. Michael removed the cover allowing fresh and cool air to rush back to me. The oxygen began to recirculate around my body, most importantly to my brain.

"Michael, let me up." I say, firmly but heavily-breathed words. I could feel my face was heated with my panic.

My brother looks down upon me, my arms still pinned to my side. "If I let you up, are you just going to have another fit?" my brother asks me, his words are almost sarcastic as he speaks down to me like I am a child.

Growling, I shake my head, "Please, Michael." I beg. With a exhausted sigh, Michael removed himself from on top of me, gripping onto my left arm to help me to my feet. My knees buckle beneath the weight of my body, despite only weight now seven stone. It's horrifying to think when I entered the Games, I was a comfortable nine stone four. I needed to put the weight back on, and quickly if the life of my unborn child is to be assured.

"What's wrong with you?!" Michael asks me sharply, "Are you trying to get yourself hurt, or killed!?"

I shake my head again, "You saw the way I killed Waylon. I strangled him and being sat on and my face covered made me feel like him," I explain snatching my wrist back from my brothers grip, "And even thinking about the others: about Cassandra, Waylon, Alden, Cato and ugh, Iris, something becomes loose and everything slips, my emotions sky-rocket for the worst." my voice is firm, idly and grown up.

Michael doesn't smile but his eyes flicker with a strange emotion as he pulls me into a large hug, engulfing me into his muscular chest. "The horrid truth is, there isn't a single victor whose mind isn't messed up. We all suffer with some sort of post-traumatic stress, what you need to accept it that you are no longer the little girl you went into the arena as, you will never be her again." Michael says firmly, it made sense having to grow up so quickly has only added pressure to me but there is a certain annoyance about this statement, is that it obvious I am no longer the girl I went into the arena. The Anastasia Hollern that went is wasn't a murder or slightly sadistic. The Anastasia Hollern that is here now, is a four-time murder and mad.

"Seriously though, Anastasia, don't explode thinking about the others like that again because in six months you will have to see their faces and speak about them." Michael tells me, I nod and suddenly the train begins to slow down. Dieter Rollo bursts into the compartment, his face gleaming with uncontrollable happiness but he is stopped by the mess of the table.

"What happened here?" He asks, shocked. I raise my eyebrow as Michael looks down upon me and Dieter catches on quickly but he waves his hands like he has touched something icky but I can tell it's all out of excitement. "We're almost here! You're almost home!" he screeches with excitement. Lunging myself forwards Dieter, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tightly, thankfully my escort returns my hug and we stay in that fixed position for several minutes.

When I pull away, I gently plant a kiss on Dieters cheek, "Thank you, Dieter. For everything." I tell him, I had a lot to thank Dieter Rollo for, for example, lining up sponsors, keeping me in line and teaching me to be presentable in front of the Capitol for the interviews. My eyes do not tear up but Dieter's do.

"You're very welcome Miss Hollern," he puts his hand either side of my face before touching our foreheads, in a comforting gesture. Dieter turns to my brother and they hug in an awkward masculine way, and they thank each other for their help. Mainly keeping me alive. Finnick is nowhere to be seen whilst we are hugging and thanking each other but it's not like I won't be able to thank him in District 4, the likelihood is that I will be his and Annie's new neighbour or live across from them.

As we pull into the station, I see people, mainly camera crews but there is a few people that don't belong to a broadcast team. Michael and myself say our last goodbye's to Dieter, knowing we are going to see him in six months it doesn't seem compulsory to get teary eyed and blubbery. Michael shoves me in front of the electric sliding door of the train making sure I am the first thing the cheering citizens of District 4 see, their new victor. The fifth victor.

As the door slides open, I am astonished by the amount of people at the train station, cheering and calling my name. Some I recognise from school and others from work but the glistening red hair of Annie Cresta catches my eyes first and soon I have pelted through the crowd, pushing and shoving people out of the way to leap into her surprisingly steady arms. Annie is crying with happiness as she cups my face wiping away the tears from my cheeks. Suddenly a hand grips my shoulder and I turn around started, but I am quickly reassured I am at no risk of being harmed because the hand belongs to Leila, who, like most, is crying hysterically. Of course I hug her tightly to me but with her being taller she claims dominance of the embrace which makes me feel victimized but I don't speak out.

Mag's doesn't call my name. She can't but I see her through the crowd like a light in the dark, her fragile body and curly grey hair only bring the feeling of safety. When I reach her, she kisses and touches my face before gripping my hands as tightly as humanly possible for her. "I've missed you." is all I can choke out.

"Finnick!" Annie's high-pitched voice screams as my mentor comes into view for the crowd, waving like he had done a million and one times beforehand. His love jumps into his arms and he tightly embraces her. I smile because Finnick Odair isn't heartless, he isn't just a toy for the Capitol to use for pleasure. He is wholesome and completely devoted to Annie Cresta. His one true love.

Citizens scream my name, gently tug at me clothing and pat me. Their hands grope me unintentionally and a sudden panic rises in my chest but as the previous victors plus Leila guide me through the crowd, at the edge of the crowd stands my mother, her new husband and their daughter, Willow. Happiness floods my mothers eyes as she stares at me but I am not happy to see her. The others – except Michael – pull to a stop but I keep on walking, urging them to continue.

"Anastasia?" my mother speaks slowly.

_Proved her worst fear, that you don't need her anymore. That you can fight and survive without her, _Alden's strong voice from the arena boomed through my head. Now is the time to crush her, "Who are you?" I ask putting on my theatre acting skills.

"I'm your mother." she tells me, like I had actually forgotten. "We're your family." she gestures to the man and young girl at her side. I nibble on my lip, attempting to ignore the chuckles that begin to break from the surrounding people I have clutched onto like a life source.

"You must be mistaken, Mrs," I say, before gesturing to the people around me: Annie, Mags, Finnick, Leila and Michael. "These people are my family." I tell her before walking off, stoned face and venting but not before I get to watch her face fall and her jaw hit the ground at our feet. As we wonder off too the walkway back to the civilization of District 4, I know there will be plenty of time to speak about the horrors and events inside the arena but right now, all I wanted was the love and affection that a real family can provide.

* * *

**A/N: Anastasia's back home, surrounded by the people who know and love her. She took Alden's advice and crushed her mother like a bug proving that now she can survive without her. Please review and tell me what you think.**


	52. Chapter 52: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Chapter Fifty-Two.

**PART IV: HOME SWEET HOME.**

**Returned to District 4.**

I am wandering blind. Literally because at the edge of the District heading towards the street, Leila stops me and whips out a tie from her pocket and saw a need to strap it around my head covering my eyes. And soon, I am forced to put all my faith into people, the one thing over the passed two weeks I have been forcing myself to believe are the enemy. Several hands take a hold of my body keeping me steady and supported but most importantly guided as my feet wobbly unevenly against the stony ground. Within minutes, the familiar smooth pavement of District 4's streets begin to feel beneath my feet. All of a sudden. We stop and the blindfold is removed, a cloud of confetti explodes into the air making me jump as a series of loud congratulation and surprise cries. Annie Cresta flinches in a terrified manor but is reassured everything is fine by Finnick. Then I realise this is all for me, a congratulation/welcome home party where the entire district has been invited to attend. I can tell by the seer number of people, most have accepted. All except Garrett Larkin's family.

Several hundred people come to congratulate me but not many if you consider the size of this party taking place in the heart of District 4. Mayor Osbourne comes to speak to me privately telling me that my home in Victor's Village was all prepared, filled with new clothes, the latest equipment, all the luxuries for a Hunger Games victor and ready for me to move into immediately after the party was finished, or whenever I felt like ditching but not before I make sure my brother has a sturdy arm home however I doubt he will be late home tonight. Crowds aren't really his thing and Annie will soon be getting restless, so I suspect Finnick will help Michael home if I bail early.

The music pounds and the alcohol runs like water in a steam. As the night goes on, the mothers, fathers and children have melted away to go home whereas the teenagers and reckless others remain dancing, drinking before disappearing off to have unprotected sex. Like the other teenagers our age, Leila becomes increasingly more drunk causing her to become less aware of what she was saying and so, within the several hours, the filter on what she should and should not be saying is gone and she was blabbering on about the Games, my kills mainly about how much I kicked ass but the thing that got me anger was her comment about Cato and how she was jealous that she didn't get a 'ride' on him before his death. That's when I punched my best friend in the middle of a party set out in my honour.

Suddenly, a large pair of hands had gripped my shoulders before the masculine voice said "Calm down," rather loudly to be heard over the music. Two more male bodies come into the drunken crowd to remove Leila's unconscious body from the ground, anyone around will simply assume she blacked out because of the drink and I''m okay with them believing that. Turning around to discover that the large hands belonged to Louis, he had allowed his beard to grow along with his hair making him look scruffy.

"Louis!" I cry rather happily lunging into his arms which crunch around my body engulfing me into a bear-hug, when he releases me I see the others have disappeared with Leila's body. "What will they tell her family?" I ask.

Giving me a crafty wink, Louis replies, "That she drank a little too much at your coming home partly. We won't mention the sucker-punch to the face." he reassures me.

A heavy weight is removed from my chest as he drapes a arm around my shoulders, we circulate through the crowd, some people pat me on the shoulder giving me drunken congratulations which in reply I simply smile or nod but I am more interested in finding my brother and when I do, there is no surprise I find him with a group of his old school pals, many who work on the fishing boats. As Louis and I approach them, the conversation dies into an eerie silence masked by the music however that doesn't stop my brother making a scene when he turns around to see me.

"Hey!" Michael screeches, "Anastasia! How, are, yhoo?" he slurs poking me in the shoulder.

I raise my eyebrow at him before sighing and removing myself from Louis's arm and taking away the drink from Michael's hand before putting his arm around my shoulders allowing him to put all his drunken weight on me. He grumbles as I pull him away from his friends but he doesn't fight me thankfully and we make our way away from the party and towards the Victor's Village.

"Wheere are we, goin'?" Michael slurs.

"Home." I grunt trying to shift his body weight into a more comfortable position. The stone path turns into gravel as he enter the stone walled village set out for the victors of District 4, filled with large stone houses. We move around the water fountain let several feet from the entry gate. Michael uses the fountain to lean on as we pass but it doesn't help for long because soon we pass the first two houses before reaching number four in a matter of minutes.

Surprisingly the front door to Michael home is locked so I am forced to fish out the key from under the doormat. I guide Michael inside, locking the door behind us and up the stair to his bedroom where he moves shockingly quickly to the bathroom where he promptly vomits into the toilet bowl. The smell of sick before the Games would have made me sick myself but I've smelt worse now so it doesn't bother me and so I take a seat on the edge of the bath so I can sit and rub my brothers back as he violently pukes, it's a horrid neon green colour. It's rather horrid.

"That's it. Get it all up." I chuckle as I make the effort to mock Michael's voice from the Capitol whilst we where on the balcony.

Michael chuckles from inside the toilet making it echo slightly before raising his head to wipe his mouth on the fabric sleeve of his shirt. "Are you going to your new house tonight?" he asks me, his speech is still slurred but I understand.

I shake my head, truthfully I don't want to go there until the morning, it's late and no doubt Mayor Osbourne has the key and I don't want to disturb him this late. I'm in no hurry to live on my own, assume more responsibility. "No, I'm going to stay here tonight. With you." I tell him softly.

Michael's drunken face attempts to smile which makes his eyes squint like he is looking at a bright light. "Good, first night back at home should be spent in your own bed." he tells me, poking me gentle before waving his hand at me. "Go, I've got to clean up." he chuckles before pulling me lightly, urging my to stand and leave which after a moment of seeing him gather to his feet, Michael then smiles happily before raising his arms as if to say, "See? I'm fine."

Chuckling, I knock passed him deliberately as I exit the bathroom seeing how much of his balance he really has. The young man remains stood with some help from the sturdy bathroom wall. As I exit Michael's bedroom and enter the landing at the top of the stairs, I flock Michael's bedroom door from the outside so he cannot get out, eliminating all danger of him coming out and accidentally falling down the stairs during the night trying to prove his independence.

My bedroom is almost bare and it's completely unrecognisable – my clothing has been emptied from my draws and wardrobe but the items on my dresser and desk had been packed away into cardboard boxes that stood one on top of the other beside my door just inside the room. My bed is still made with the same bedsheets which have been unchanged since the day I left for the reaping.

I don't shower that night, seeing that I had washed myself in the morning on the train, it just seemed pointless. However I do have to wash my right hand because the knuckles are speckled in red blood from Leila. I strip off the beautiful clothing Dieter had picked out for me on the train and slipped into bed simply in my Capitol underwear. Automatically discomforted by the lack of silky softness the bed had to offer but I was home. Back laying in my own bed staring at the same spot of the ceiling creating odd images using the bumpy texture. Through the thick walls I can hear Michael swear at inanimate objects – no doubt his reflection in the mirror – but considering I doubt comfortable sleep will come to me tonight, I listen carefully, silently thankful that there's someone a little more messed up than I am.

* * *

**A/N: What did you guys think of this chapter, punching Leila wasn't a plan but I thought it slipped in nicely. Anastasia's story, for now, is almost over. One more chapter. She is home and moving into her own home in Victor's Village, where she will spend her time as a victor in peace, eating healthily and slowly becoming a mother to her child. Will you read the next story I write continuing on with Anastasia's story? Review! **


	53. Chapter 53: Victor's Village

Chapter Fifty-Three.

**Victor's Village.**

_7:15 AM._

The early morning sunlight is peaking through the gap in the curtains above my head, piercing through my closed eyelids. My dreams were filled with only mildly disturbing memories, almost like a ten second video replayed over and over again keeping my terror at a reasonable level. Turning onto my stomach, I yank the curtain closed before returning back to lay wrapped in the sheets of my bed savouring the sweet taste of freedom as this morning is the first morning since the reaping I have woken up on my own terms, no terrifying, death marking cannons or exhilarating nerves and no extremely loud wake up call from Dieter – which secretly, I miss.

Ten minutes later, I drag myself out of bed and stumble into my bedroom to take a shower. I must have slept strangely because my neck is tight and stiff whilst my legs seem to only work at half the speed of a regular person. The hot water manages to refuse the deepened knots and with my clothes all gone, I have no choice but to adventure outside of the safety of my bedroom in my undergarments, hidden by my fluffy pink dressing gown.

On approaching the stairs, I walked passed to Michael room and unlocked the door before poking my head in to check he is still alive and hadn't choked on his own vomit but when I scan the bedroom, he isn't there. The window on the far wall is closed meaning he couldn't of gotten out meaning he could only be in the bathroom. Carefully, I enter the bedroom and cross over to the bathroom to open the door allowing the rotting smell of vomit to waft free and Michael is laid sleeping like a small child in the bathtub.

I don't wake him, fearing how bad his morning breath is, so instead I open the bathroom window to let fresh air circulate in the small space and then I went rummaging in Michael's draws searching for any form of clothing that would be comfortable. The expensive fabricated clothing donated to him by the Capitol rested at the bottom of the draws whilst the soft cotton clothing he must have purchased at the markets sit proudly on top. I steal the simplest t-shirt in the draw, a plan, short sleeved top and a pair of baggy, cotton trousers. I leave Michael's room and head downstairs still keeping my dressing gown tightly kept around my body for added heat.

The kitchen was collecting dust and clear of food, no doubt Michael cleared out everything that could go out of date before he left, or maybe that was the huge spread set out for me on reaping day. Trying to get rid of it before Michael went off, knowing I would eat it when I returned but, of course, I didn't. With the lack of food dancing in my mind, I fill the metal kettle with water before turning on the gas hob to boil the water. I remove two cups from the cupboard to my left and put coffee grains in one and a tea-bag in the other. Once the kettle whistles t announce it's finished, I add water and milk to my tea before taking a seat at the wooden table in the center of the kitchen, simply staring into the hot liquid contained inside the cup that is clenched tightly in my scarred hands.

_7:45 AM – *Michael's POV*_

Oh, holy Mary mother of Christ. What is going on? Is someone splashing a litre of acid inside my mind whilst playing a drum solo? And what the hell am I doing inside my bath, have I been here all night? As I remove myself from the bath, my limbs stretched to the point of pain and my joints and spine cracked with stiffness, the result was fairly satisfying. And standing on my own two feet also proved difficult as my balance resembles that of a three-year-old.

The window of the bathroom was open suggesting someone has been in here since last night. My guess is logical, Anastasia came to check up on my this morning. I hope she's okay, Finnick informed be about the nightmares and I was a little more than pissed off that Finnick took it upon himself to comfort my sister, surely that should be my job. I'm her brother, but we are a family, a tragic family of messed up victors.

Dry vomit decorated the sleeve of my shirt that I currently wore and so I strip it off before opening my clothing draw to discover one of my shirts are missing, no doubt Anastasia has stolen it seeing has her clothing has been boxed away by Peacekeepers and donated to homes because her new home will be filled with Capitol style clothes which she will hate, no doubt. I am forced to put on my second favourite shirt: a button up red, white and black checkered shirt. My trousers remain crinkled but clean so I don't bother changing them, Dieter Rollo would have had a fit but seeing as I won't be seeing him for another six months, I intend to make the most out of my natural sloppy behaviour and head downstairs.

The potent smell of black coffee helps to bring my from my thick fogged state. Anastasia sits at the table, staring down into her hot cup of tea like she is waiting for something to happen, the steam glazes over her face like it's nothing anymore. I remember pinning her down in the train, the fury that clouded her eyes when Iris Castillo came into conversation. Remembering my baby sisters kills in the Games, her first murder she committed and how I feared the District 11 girl was going to end her but Anastasia was more deadly and smart than even I could have anticipated. Despite her being almost completely airbrushed, she is my sister and I remember he before the Games, accidental scaring from fishing or fighting with me but now I remember well where the talon marks embedded the skin on her throat, back, torso, arms, legs... anywhere those bastard birds would get a slash, they did. Iris throwing a knife into her shoulder blade and the endless punches Anastasia endured.

There are no winners from these Games. Only survivors and she certainly is a survivor. Held up strong at the beginning but after the boy from District 12's mercy death, you could see the life begin to leave her eyes, after Alden's death, her eyes grew darker and after Cassandra's death, she was almost completely gone.

And then, Cato Ludwig wore her down to the core. To emotion. To love. After watching Anastasia challenge Crane, I was sure she was a doomed, that it was the end for her and I even arranged the flowers she wanted for her service back home. Yellow rose with red tips. Cato was a clear champion but he was simply brought down by love.

Hamish Fords was the doctor assigned to look after and treat Anastasia once they had gotten her uncontrolled by sedation and due to my family status to the new victor, the new of her pregnancy was shovelled along, mostly hidden by her injury report to me first. During the little over two weeks inside the arena, Anastasia had suffered one broken and three fractured ribs with a broken nose in several places which they have managed to reset in the same way it was before the Games, she also had a broken shoulder blade due to the knife Iris threw along with several frost-bitten toes which needed to be semi-amputated to stop it spreading – I remember the doctor showing me the ultrasound picture, a little over two weeks pregnant, it's not even a baby yet. Truthfully, I'm amazed how the baby managed to survive during the hunger and dehydration. Doctor Fords also was baffled by the survival of the child and even went as far as calling it a miracle.

Fucking miracle, my younger sister is only sixteen-years-old. Not even an adult by law yet and those Capitol idiots are making her keep it for entertainment value. Bets are sparking in the Capitol and district's as they wonder what the gender of her child will be and no doubt she will have to tell them to avoid punishment from President Snow.

However, despite the flaws and haunting memories Anastasia now has to carry as baggage, I cannot say I assume she will be a terrible mother, the little girl manages to keep her scrawny cat alive for this long. Ugh, I am so happy to be finally getting rid of that little runt that scratches up my floors and gets hair all over my sofa. But how is our sibling bond going to be effected by the Games, will she turn away from me and go sour like I had so many times before with her or will she have a better knowledge of how to control her mood swings, keep her memories from surfacing or will she go like Annie? Insane and completely hopeless without my help. Caught so deep in thought, I walking quietly around to the work surface where my cup of coffee is stood, I stare at her from at an angle, her cheeks are hollow but getting fuller and her posture displays the work of Dieter, perfectly straight but she will grow out of that soon.

"Can you stop staring at me?" Anastasia pipes up with a strange tone which I cannot pinpoint a particular emotion but strutting around to sit opposite her, I can see she smiles faintly with a small laugh escaping her nostrils, I know we will be fine because now I have the opportunity to return all the years she has looked after me but I can do one better because now I truly have a reason to stay both sober and sane, for my nephew or niece because there is no way I am going to mess up being an a part of that kids life. I'm going to be the best uncle, ever.

_*Anastasia's POV*_

At around half eight, I answer the door after three loud knocks echo through the house making Michael flinch in pain. The local doctor named Ronan Galloway had took it upon himself to drop in without giving us any warning. If it was any other doctor, Michael and myself may have kicked up a fuss but Doctor Galloway has stitched us up plenty of times with charging a penny so we are relatively used to his presence around the home. Plus he hates the Capitol almost as much as Michael and me so he fits in rather well and he brings the gift of a freshly baked loaf of bread.

"Good morning," Doctor Galloway smiles cheerfully before thrusting the hot loaf into my arms making me grin and move aside allowing him to exit the cold and enter the house. We walk into the kitchen where Doctor Galloway greets Michael who groans in reply to the doctor's happiness. I watched Galloway visually inspect my brother, his piercing green eyes dotting over every inch of my brothers sharp features before the doctor began to rummage through the leather bag he carried. It was almost as if Michael knew what Galloway was after because he automatically sat up a little straighter and waited patiently for the man to remove his hand, showing off a glistening packet of pills carefully sealed with foil over the top. Michael gleamed happily and went to reach for the medication but Doctor Galloway swiftly pulled away the packet before my brothers quick fingers could latch around it. "Do you remember how many you're allowed?" he questioned Michael like a child who flushed red with embarrassment.

"Two." my brother replied.

Doctor Galloway smiled mischievously whilst handing over the plastic packet containing the painkilling pills. Michael quickly popped two from it's compartments before washing them down with a mouthful of black coffee. Cutting up the fresh loaf of bread, Doctor Galloway makes himself comfortable in the living room, resting his bag on the small glass coffee table between the two plush sofa's. I quickly make two more mugs of tea before hurrying into the living room carefully keeping the cups steady so the boiling hot liquid doesn't shift over the brim and holding a chunk of the loaf in my other hand.

"You said you wanted to go over some things?" I ask.

Galloway nodded before removing several sheets of paper, one I recognised as my medical form which until now was clear but now it lists my past injuries and illnesses and a small clear tablet. The doctor removes a pen from a pencil case and clicks the top. "The hospital would just like to confirm and have some decision made by you." the doctor says glancing down at the white paper attached to the clipboard.

I took a mouthful of bread in a rather disgusting manor but I didn't really care. Doctor Galloway smirks at me but asks his first question despite the giggles he muffles, "When did you convince?" he asks.

For some unknown reason, my mind returns back to it's twelve-year-old state and took in a sharp gasp of cold air forcing the mashed up bread to swiftly move down my throat causing me to choke, "I'm sorry." I apologise containing my chuckles enough to wash down the food with half the mug of boiling hot tea.

Doctor Galloway chuckles lightly, clearly understanding how uncomfortable this must be for me, "I suspect it was before the Games started?" he asks me, jotting down something on the paper then looking up at me.

I nod, "Yes, the night before so that would make it... June tenth." My doctor nods before picking up the tablet from the glass table, he taps on the screen and then waited before it bleeps at him, Doctor Galloway doesn't tell me what happened or what he was doing, he simply jotted down something on the paper before looking back up at me with a smile whilst returning the tablet to his bag.

"Would you like to delivery at home or in the hospital?" Doctor Galloway asks me like it's no big decision. I grit my teeth and tilt my head to the side, _home or hospital? _It was a big decision to make but on one hand, home would be must more special.

"Home." I tell him.

Doctor Galloway smiles before jotting down the decision onto the form. "That's going to cost." he warns me. I cannot help but feel mildly angered but I suck it up for old times sake.

"I'm sure I can spare the cash." I say as smoothly as possibly. The doctor nods before turning to his sheet, several more questions are asked and I answered. We agree on a schedule, I am to visit the hospital every three months, the first scan is when I am a little over three months old. The second at six months – just before my Victor's Tour starts – and the last right before I am due to deliver. Galloway informs me that my second scan should be able to tell me the gender of the baby, I want to know but in a way I want it to be a surprise. Something unexpected that's beautiful and not terrifying.

Doctor Galloway packs away his items into his bag and gathered to his feet, he said his goodbye to me with a awkward, one armed hug before screaming to say goodbye to my brother who had left the kitchen. I escort him to the door but before he left, I am gripped with curiosity.

"Ronan!... I mean, Doctor Galloway!" I call as I watch him descend down the stone steps from Michael's house onto the gravel pathway; he turns, not particularly alarmed by me calling his name. "What is it?" I ask loudly, Doctor Galloway raised an eyebrow at me, silently begging for me to be more specific, "When am I due?" I questioned unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

Doctor Galloway grins happily, "Around March next year." he replies, then pauses before taking out a already rolled cigarette from his coat pocket. "I'll see you in three months." he chuckles. And then he leaves. From the doorway I cannot help but watch him strut passed the empty neighbour house numbered two and out of the gates leading out of Victors Village and into the rest of District 4. From above his head, the smoke gives him a chimney look but I soon shut the door before sprinting up the stairs screaming my brothers name.

I find him in my bedroom, "What's the matter!?" he asks dropping the cardboard box to the ground with a thud before dashing over to me patting me down as if I am injured, "Are you hurt? Feeling ill? Are you okay?" he stammers. My mouth as fallen slightly open in reaction to his questions, Michael has suddenly become over protective and I am shocked but it's really sweet so I smile at him holding back the nasty sniggers of laughter.

"I'm fine –"

"– Then why all the screaming?" Michael asks abruptly breathing a little easier.

A chuckle escapes my pursed lips, "I'm due in March." I tell him. Michael grinned widely. March holds a special purpose, it's the same month as mine and our fathers birthday. The fourth to be exact whilst mine is the twenty-first. Crumbling into Michael's arms he secures me tightly as we share a loving embrace which lasts until several minutes later when a knock echoes throughout the house, alerting us.

"Who's that?" I question, my voice lower than a whisper as suddenly I am terrified, the hairs stand up on the back of my neck because suddenly I am thrown back into the arena, the unknowing who is waiting for us on the other side of the door scares me. Just like not knowing terrified me in the Games.

Michael's arms tighten around me, "Mayor Osbourne." he replies in a shallow voice before kissing my head, we exited my bedroom leaving the boxes when suddenly the front door swung open uninvited and in stepped Finnick wearing his usual Capitol get up, Louis dressed in his usual clothing, Annie in her beautiful flowing gowns and Mags dressed in soft grey cotton clothing. "Oh, and the moving party." he added softly as he made his way down the stairs to greet the men who trotted their way up the stairs, as they passed me they either patted my shoulder or ruffled up my hair.

Chuckling, I make my way down the stairs to join Annie, Mags and Mayor Osbourne who all greet me in their own special way, Annie simply engulfed me in a hug, squeezing a little too tightly, Mayor Osbourne poshly said hello shaking my hand and Mags patted my left shoulder with a wordless smile.

"What's going on?" I ask, completely oblivious to any logical reason to why they would enter Michael and mines home before the men charging off into my bedroom. The mayor removes a golden key from his pocket before wiggling it in front of my face, the end of the metal object clinked against the ring he wore on his fourth finger. A key? Turning sharply at the sound of grunts, I watch the three men emerge from my bedroom, each holding a box filled with my things. My belongings.

A key and my belongings. "It's moving day." Annie almost squeaks.

My stomach clutches in a tight ball. Moving? I am moving, today, right now. Michael, Finnick and Louis swoop down from upstairs and slides out the front door into the humid air. Mayor Osbourne exits the house happily, swiftly followed by Mags then by me and Annie who clutches my hand tightly.

The boys have stopped in the middle of the gavel way between the houses because I assume they aren't sure where I am moving too, one of the spare houses. Following the mayor like a river, he struts across the gap between the houses, for a second I think we were heading towards Mags' house but that would be stupid, instead we are headed toward the house to the right. Number five, it matches the others, created by the same grey stone, the same painted blue front door with a porch like structure built over it so when it rains, the victor is kept dry. Two white painted, chunky framed windows are placed either side of the door whilst another three were set in the wall of the upper level. My new home. But as my hands unintentionally find my stomach, I cannot help but smile because this won't be just my new house, it'll be our new home.

Annie dragged me to the front of the small crowd of movers, I watch Mayor Osbourne wiggle the key moving through to stand at the front of us, stepping up the four stone steps to the front door, slipping the key into the lock before turning it left to unlock the door before pushing it open allowing the soft smell of polish to flutter from the house like butterflies, I can feel the others eyes turn to me giving me a cold shiver and I have frozen completely in my spot, Mayor Osbourne wears a smile like I imagine Dieter Rollo would but I can tell it's fake, he's worried there are camera's watching me move in, wouldn't surprise me.

"Oi, Anastasia, if you're not going in, can we?" Finnick calls from behind me.

Michael gruff's, "Yeah, these boxes are surprisingly heavy."

Nodding wordlessly, the boys all brush passed me carefully to enter the house in front of me, I watch them disappear into the dimly lit home. Terrified by what is lurking in the darkness, I almost melt to the floor but I am soon solidified by the touch of Annie's soft hands which trail down to grip mine lightly yet comfortingly.

"Come on." she coos very gentle, tugging me towards the house but with my hand in hers, I feel more comfortable. Annie walks me towards the door where I pause again to take in the small features of the house from the house. To my right is the kitchen, widely spread with a wooden dining table as an island, around the perimeter of the kitchen, marble topped work surfaces are set perfectly with a oven in the middle with a gas hob, a fridge beside that and a sink. On the far wall above the various work surfaces are cupboards matching the dinning table, pale brown.

Nestling in closer to Annie, we enter further into the house, the stairs are in front of me with a corridor down the side leading to an unknown room and to my right is the living room, a large fire place is set on the far wall on top of the mantel piece is an electric television generator which only comes on for the Games, there are also framed photographs. Three plush green-blue sofas are faced in a horseshoe shape, situated around the fireplace. A wooden bookshelf lined with beautifully crafted books.

"It's beautiful." I mumble, loud enough to make everyone smile.

Michael nudges me, snatching me attention before gesturing to the stairs, "You haven't even seen the best bit yet." he informs me. Glancing at Annie, she smiles happily before walking with me up the strong staircase. The landing is much larger than before, with plush green carpets I felt rude walking over them with my shoes. "That's the study." Michael tells me, nodding over to the door furthest away to the left, "Bathroom," he calls out as we look at the door to the left near where the stairs finish, then we stop abruptly.

"This is your bedroom." Mayor Osbourne informs me, turning the handle and pushing the door open. My breath is whipped from my lungs as I try to absorb the fancy aura and posh items which fill the room. A beautiful four post bed with chunky silk pillows and duvet sit slightly diagonally from the doorway, a large dressing table sits to the right whilst a large wardrobe sits to the left, no doubt filled with smart clothing giving as a prize from the Capitol. A desk sits next to the door way and another doorway is set beyond that on the wall furthest to my right leading onto a posh ensuite bathroom. Nearing the bed, I notice that laid on the soft fabric was Cato's sword, slotted into its own protective leather case.

But as I smile like an idiot to myself, unable to believe this was all for me, a sixteen year old girl. My mind flickers to the Games, all of this was because of my killings, surviving the hits and stabs whilst others didn't. Garrett Larkin's family is sat at home working to buy the things they want and need, I have just been given a posh house and enough money to solve all of District 12's hunger problems.

"Ready to see the best bit?" Michael mutters after setting down the boxes inside my new bedroom at the foot of my new bed. My eyes flicker to Annie, this wasn't the best part? Surely this cannot be topped right? But as Michael gently takes my arm, removing me from the comfort of Annie, he swiftly takes me from my bedroom, turning left to drag me down the corridor to another room which was hidden. "Close your eyes." he tells me. I am shocked to hear his voice replaced by Alden's, expecting my brother to place a throwing knife pack into my hands. My elder brother takes my hands, the sound of creaking hinges tells me we are about to enter another room, the texture beneath my feet changes to a softer carpet, sunlight pours in breaking through my eyelids.

"Ready?" Michael asks me, I nod making him release my hands allowing them to flop to my sides, his footsteps carefully fade away from me and I prepare myself for whatever is hidden behind my lids, "Open your eyes." he tells me gentle but my body has suddenly gone ridged, terrified by my irrational fear of not knowing.

Pushing my fear away, I open my eyes to suddenly feel as if I had been punched in the chest for the room I had stepped into was... a nursery. The walls were painted blue mixed with green matching the colour of the water making up the sea. A painted white coat with a mobile created out of dangling ships, fish and waves. The coat was bar of sheets but contained a wafer thin mattress and pushed against the far right corner with a large comfortable looking armchair nestled in the upper corner, in the far left corner is a beautiful emerald green chifferobe – no doubt filled with baby clothes – and beside the door to my left is a baby-changing unit. The ceiling was crafted with the view of the sky with a small chandelier in the center.

"What do think?" a female voice from behind me asks, I can tell it's Annie by the slight jiff in her voice. Without turning to face the crowd that block the door to the nursery, I smile with tears gentle lining the edges of my eyes. "It's perfect." I mumble, resting my hands on my stomach, it's almost like I can feel her or him stir inside of me because I am consumed with terror that felt as old as life itself. Michael pulls me into a hug, then another body slowly engulfs me, the heat rises in my face with embarrassment. However it's not the people around me that settle my nerves, only the joy of holding my child in my arms will tame this kind of terror and I will hold him or her tightly, dreading the day that I will have to let go.

THE END.

* * *

**A/N: That's the end. She survived, she is scarred but Anastasia's with all the unstable victors, her family, surrounding her, they create stability. I really hope you have enjoyed it. The next chapter (Fifty-four) is letters from dead tributes to Anastasia and the chapter after that is my disclaimer and thank you's. I really have enjoyed writing this story so please review with your thoughts on this chapter, the one after and my disclaimer. **

**Thank you so much! Love, Valerie.**


	54. Chapter 54: Letters To Anastasia

Chapter Fifty-Four.

**PART V: LETTERS TO ANASTASIA.**

_Dear Annoying Cow from District 4,_

_I may have never liked you, in fact I hate you but that's only because I was jealous. You were loved by the one person I craved attention from. I am unable to count how many times I caught Cato looking at you during our training days, the sneak glimpses he stole before the tribute parade and the way he attempted to hid this smiles when he watched your tribute interview._

_He loved you and for that I will continue to hate you forever. But, I wanted to thank you for making my death quick. Far quicker than Cassandra or Alden would have. They still hate me by the way._

_I hope your life isn't too shitty but I cannot promise I wont be slightly happy if you're miserable._

– _Iris._

* * *

_Dear my Mockingjay whistler,_

_Congratulations, you deserved too win. Don't worry about me or Cassandra, we are happy... oh, and married. Cato attended with a smile and explained how everything was between you too. _

_Congratulations on the news of the baby as well, Cato was heart broken when he found out, he doesn't spend a moment away from the pond where he watches you from, even your sister, Maria cannot coach him away, he sits in silence and watches, sometimes he speaks but rarely._

_I would like you to know and understand how I felt about you in the Games, Ana. You were one of my best friend and I honestly couldn't asks for someone better to spend my last week with, it was strangely one of the best times I have ever spend with another person in the same situation as me. It's a shame though, to think that the Games were the only way we could have become friends._

_Cassandra constantly beats herself up about what she tried to do, I cannot convince her to write to you, she afraid you will burn it and not bother reading it first. The Games got to her, like I know from watching they have got you too and I'm sorry for that._

_Oh, and may I just say how proud of you I am, not forgetting my advice and putting your mother in her place but I guess now you have your own chances to do what your mother did not. To love, support and care for her child no matter what and I wish you the best of luck. Think of me as a Mockingjay and every time they return your whistle it's like we are talking._

_Keep whistling Princess, hopefully I will see you at some point but not yet, be safe. _

_Your friend, _

– _Alden._

* * *

_To my protector,_

_Don't blame yourself for my death, you did the best you could to help me. _

_Truthfully, I knew as soon as my name was called out from the bowl of boys names, I was a dead child walking. The flicker of annoyance, hate and sadness that passed through Peeta Mellark's eyes as I removed myself from the crowd, also confirmed I had no chance at winning. And when the pain radiated through me whilst the large girl from District Eleven stood over me, that knife clutched in her hand, I knew I was going to die; I prayed, pretended to fight not wanting to appear a coward in my last moments but I was ready to embrace death. _

_I'm young, not stupid._

_Then you came along, sprinting out of the darkness like some sort of hero from a story. You risked your life to save mine, but why? Did you feel you owed me something because I was young? Because how how I looked, hollow and pale? I wondered what on earth you could owe me as I watched you kill her. I've watched you since day one, the way you moved in training, the power, the strength._

_I was terrified of what you might do to me if you caught me in the arena but you shocked me, and everyone else's expectations of yourself. Instead of watching me die, you saved me. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay._

_It's nice here in heaven. I met a little girl named Rue, she's pretty with large dark eyes and dark hair. Iris mopes around all day desperately trying to get Cato's attention but he spend his days looking down upon you. We all miss you a lot._

_Your Ally,_

– _Waylon._

* * *

_Dear Princess, _

_I am so proud of you._

_Please, don't worry about me or your friends because we are safe here. Finally in a place where the Capitol or President Snow cannot control us. I met your father and your sister, Maria. Her and Cassandra have grown to be good friends, Maria tells me stories about when you were little, I enjoy hearing about your childhood because during the Games, I knew so little but I fell in love with you anyway._

_Alden and Cassandra got married, the ceremony was beautiful. Garrett met a girl named Katniss and befriended her. They spend their days watching over Waylon who plays for hours in the meadow with a little dark-skinned girl named Rue. Katniss tells us it reminds them of home._

_I miss you, Anastasia. Please take good care of our child because you are all they have left now and don't blame yourself for anything you did during the Games, here there are no grudges held and we all understand why you did what you did._

_I am okay; I love you. Try not to miss me too much, eventually we will meet again, even death cannot separate us but until we are united once again... I will be watching over you and our child. Keep on fighting sweetheart._

_I love you._

– _Cato._

* * *

**A/N: There it's officially over. Are you ready for the second story of her life? And by the way, just a random question, are any of you readers a fan of the English tv version of Sherlock staring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman because I was considering writing a fan-fiction, probably be Johnlock because I ship them so hard! Review, again, a thousand thank you's for reading this story, I owe you lots.**


	55. Chapter 55: Disclaimer

To the best readers in the entire Fan-fiction world;

Well, that is my second story written and completed. It has been an absolute pleasure of writing for you and I sincerely hope you enjoy this story, but like every fan-fiction there is the heart stopping disclaimer to write, this is where I admit that only Anastasia, her abilities, sarcasm and strange comments along with the individual events that occurred during the story which differ from the original novel and the story line belong to me. Everything else is the brilliant creation of Suzanne Collins.

Like before, I have a personal note to send to the best readers ever, these people have read, commented and voiced their opinions, likes and dislikes throughout my story. These people are the fantastic dragynfyre18 and hateme101 but I also want to say a huge thank you to new reader and commenter Jamie64 – all of these readers have given me the best feedback I could have asked for. And so I thank them with lots of hugs! Words cannot express how much you have helped me with my confidence and ability to write.

Anastasia Hollern's story shall continue on into a second tale because how can I leave it here? She's have a baby, the Victory's Tour is starting in six months and there must be unrest in the Capitol because the stunts pulled by her and Cato in the arena. Make sure you read it if you enjoyed this story! And, of course, comment.

Again, a thousand thank you's too all my readers for reading my fan-fiction: "One More Cannon, One More Down, One Step Closer, To the Crown" Thank you to all the ones who comment as well as the one who do not. And I look forward to hearing from you all again!

–**Valerie Argent.16.**


End file.
